Tales From the Khinggan Mountains
by dgharis
Summary: A collection of short stories set in the Fallout universe in northeastern China, Manchuria, Mongolia, and surrounding areas.
1. Chapter 1 Introduction

INTRODUCTION

First, thanks to all whose creations have served as a constant inspiration to me; my friends and family, the writers on , and, most importantly, the creators of the Fallout series of video games, without whom this would not exist. (That's right, it's your fault; nothing like a little preemptive blame-shifting.)

Seriously, though, any errors or omissions are my own fault entirely and all criticism should be addressed to me personally. For all of you who took the time to read my writing, thank you for your patience; I hope you enjoyed it.

BACKGROUND

The stories contained here are set in the Fallout universe, but on the other side of the world. Specifically, in northeast China, Manchuria, Mongolia, and surrounding regions. The nuclear exchange in 2077 laid northeast China and Manchuria waste; two thirds of the Chinese population died in the following twenty years.

Now, two hundred years later, Manchuria, Korea (North and South), and eastern Siberia are part of the resurgent Japanese Empire. The Japanese have learned from their mistakes of the past and govern with a light hand, so there is little unrest.

China has fragmented into half a dozen regional powers, of which Jin Wei, encompassing the northeast portion next to Manchuria, is the one which most intimately concerns us.

A new power has arisen in the Khinggan Mountains and surrounding areas; the Oni. Oni (so named by the Japanese; the name has become accepted usage, even among themselves) are mutants; seven feet tall, three hundred pounds, a slight tinge of purple to their skin and hair, and remarkably resilient. They are every bit as intelligent as humans, and tend to the logical rather than the emotional. There are males and females, but their unions are not fertile. Instead they are grown in great cloning facilities in batches of a thousand at a time. There is considerable variance among them; this is a deliberate measure to safeguard against disease or defect.

The Oni, thanks to careful management, have a viable country of their own covering almost a million square miles. They have successfully fought the Chinese and Japanese, gaining territory from each. Mongolia is loosely governed by the Oni; in reality it is too thinly populated to be said to ruled by anyone.

There are ghouls, both feral and intelligent. Intelligent ghouls are tolerated by Chinese and Oni and persecuted by Japanese; in spite of that their radiation resistance allows them to inhabit areas where normal humans could not survive. They form small communities in such areas; as an underprivileged group they tend disproportionately to criminal activities.

At the present time, 2277, there exists an uneasy balance of power between the Oni, Jin Wei, and the Japanese. How long this will last is anyone's guess.

A CULTURAL NOTE

American and European cultures tend to laud individual achievement, regardless of the effect such achievement has on others. Not so Oriental cultures, where the welfare of the group takes precedence. Individual achievement is still praised, but only insofar as it benefits the group(s) to which that individual belongs. As a result Orientals weigh their actions in light of the effect they will have on the group first and on themselves second, where Westerners consider the effect on themselves first and on the group second.

As a result Oriental societies are much more cooperative and much less competitive than western ones. One is expected to devote one's efforts to bettering the welfare of the group rather than to improving one's own lot in life. This is not to say that Westerners cannot cooperate, or that Orientals are completely selfless; neither is true, of course. Rather, it is a difference in emphasis. I have tried to preserve this difference in outlook in these stories; if an individual's actions seem strange or counterintuitive to the reader, this might well be part of the reason.

Enough background; on with the stories.


	2. Chapter 2 Wedding Guests

WEDDING GUESTS

"Felicitations, Su Min."  
"And to you, my friend. You are well?"  
"Yes, thank you. And you?"  
"Yes, thankfully." He looked at his daughter with unfeigned warmth. "Beautiful, isn't she?"  
"Indeed. I have never seen her look so happy." He looked at the odd pair sitting behind them, then quizzically at Su Min.  
Su Min smiled at him. "That is a most curious story."  
"Well, go ahead with it. We have plenty of time."  
Su Min smiled and leaned back in his chair.

Su Lin had never seen weather like this. Clear sky, bright sun, warm and dry. If this continued the crop would be the best her family had seen in many years. Their few acres in Ling Tiang were fertile; they always had enough to eat, for which they regularly gave thanks to their ancestors. They were poor, true, but not so poor as to lack the basic necessities. Life was hard at times, but they were happy.

That had not always been so. She had heard the stories, of how the bombs fell, destroying China's cities. With the cities went the government; with the government went law and order. Within five years the population had dropped from one billion to one third of that. Chinese are nothing if not stubborn, though; they fought their way back. New governments arose, knitting the old country into new nations. Jin Wei, on whose northern border they lived, was one of those.

She paused a moment in her work to gaze at the mountains to the north. It was said that the Oni lived there; demons, monsters; eating the flesh of humans, or carrying them off into slavery. Wild tales, of course, told to frighten children or entertain audiences. The Oni were not human, but tales of them enslaving Chinese, or worse, eating them, were just that; tales. They had their own nation; how could demons or monsters achieve that? Ridiculous.

She turned her gaze to the northeast, toward Manchuria. Manchuria had always been an anomaly; Chinese and yet foreign. Their people had ruled China, until internal decay and external pressures forced them out. That was hundreds of years ago. At the moment they were the ruled, not the rulers. The Japanese, who had occupied their land, were in charge now.

That had happened before. The first time the Japanese made a complete mess of it, arrogantly exploiting the region and riding roughshod over the people. The result was that when the Russian army attacked they chased the Japanese out in one month. No Chinese lifted a hand to help them.

The Japanese are not stupid; they do learn from their mistakes. This time they governed with a light hand. The people were well treated, and, according to rumor, better off than their Chinese cousins. That they were second class, with no say in their government, was also true.

She shook her head and went back to her work. The Oni, Manchurians, and Japanese would have to solve their own problems; her business was tending her family's fields.

"Grigori! Commander wants to see you."  
"Be right there." He shouldered his rifle and pack, then set off to the commander's hut.  
"You wanted to see me, commander?"  
"Yes, Grigori. We have reports of bandits operating out of a valley to the southwest. I'd like you to check it out. Are you ready?"  
"Almost. A stop by the quartermaster for supplies, then I'm off."  
"Good. If you run into trouble, back off and report. You're good and I don't want to lose you."  
Grigori smiled. "Thanks. I'll let you know what's up when I find them."

A few moments to look at the map. So; near the Manchurian border. A good choice for bandits; if things get too hot for them they can just slip across the border, where local forces can't follow. He smiled. A little extra ammo, just in case. And maybe a few more grenades as well.

It was cold up here in the mountains, even in late August. He dressed warmly, of course; no sense risking hypothermia. Too early for snow, thankfully; he wouldn't need his snowshoes. A good fifty kilometer hike; should take about two days. He walked steadily on.

Private Nogi trudged behind his sergeant. Another wild goose chase; by the time they got to the village the bandits would have gotten what they came for and left. Catching them would mean crossing into Oni territory; the Oni were not forgiving of trespassers. He reflected that if they could somehow get advance notice of these raids and get between the bandits and their base, then they might actually catch them.

The problem, of course, was that the locals were more friendly to the bandits than to the Japanese. Never mind that bandits stole from them and occasionally killed them as well; never mind that Nogi and his comrades actually tried to protect them. Old habits died hard, it seems.

Still, they had to try. Maybe this once they would get lucky and catch the bandits in a moment of carelessness. Maybe. He and his fellows marched on.

"Come on! Time to go!"  
"Just a second; let me see if there's anything under here."  
"No time; if the damn Jappos catch us they'll string us up by our balls. Unless you like that sort of thing …?"  
"Not hardly. There's nothing here anyway. Where's Chin?"  
"Already waiting with the others." They trotted out to the edge of the village.  
"Everyone here?"  
"Yeah. Let's get moving already. I'm ready for a good meal and a drink, and your dawdling is keeping me from it."  
The chief laughed. "Well, what are we waiting for?" They set off at a trot.

Su Lin ate quietly. Another hard day's work finished. Soon it would be time for harvest; then the celebrations would begin. Who knows; maybe there would be enough for a dowry … and then she and Jiang could start their own family. She smiled at that thought.

"What are you smiling at?"  
"Nothing, father."  
Her mother snorted. "Dreaming of that Jiang again. Not yet, dear. Maybe in a year or two, when you're older and have something more in the way of a dowry."  
Her father smiled. "Perhaps. We shall see after harvest."  
Her brother ribbed her. "Good. I'm tired of her getting all the attention."  
She promptly shoved him off his seat; he sprawled on the floor. "See how you like doing all the work as well, lazybones."  
"I already do; you spend half your time staring off into space."

"Enough, you two. Time for bed."  
"We still going to town tomorrow?"  
"Yes; you can do the shopping while I arrange for a buyer for the harvest. So your brother will get his wish, for one day at least. Let's see how well he copes with doing two people's work instead of one."

She smiled again. Jiang would be there as well; it would be good to see him again. He had promised her a present as well. With that thought she drifted off to sleep.

Grigori marched on, more carefully now. This part of the mountains was largely unsettled, so all sorts of characters, most of whom were unsavory, roamed the area. Then there was the wildlife. Wolves and bears weren't too bad, but the tigers could kill you with one swipe. And there were worse things than tigers …

A camp for the night, in a spot sheltered from the wind. A definite chill to the air; might even get snow. Pleasant thought. Tomorrow, weather permitting, he would approach the bandits' hiding spot. From there he would get a count of them; if they were few enough he would handle it himself. If not, he would report in and watch them while waiting for his team to arrive. He finished his tea, rolled up in his blanket, and settled back to sleep.

"They were here, all right. The tracks lead off to the west."  
"Into the mountains. Let's follow them and see where they lead. Isao, take point."  
"Yes sir."

Nogi looked doubtful at this. The tracks were several hours old; the bandits would be back over the border long before the squad could catch up to them, assuming that was even possible.

Nevertheless, off they went. The sergeant was right about one thing, though; if they could find out where the bandits were coming from they could patrol that area and, hopefully, catch them in transit. It was worth a try.

They spread out a bit now; you never knew what you might run into out here. Ambushes were all too common and Nogi, for one, preferred to be the ambusher rather than the ambushed. This would slow them down a bit, but better safe than sorry, as the saying went. They marched on into the night.

"Chief!"  
"Yeah?"  
"Got a little problem. Ma Han says the Jappos have picked up our trail; there's a bunch of them following us."  
"How close are they?"  
"A day or so behind."  
"Good. That gives us time enough to hit that town in Jin Wei, then get back in time to handle them, assuming they keep following the trail, of course. How many?"  
"He says seven."  
"No problem. You take Shin and the others with you and watch them. If they get too close before we get back, fall back to the ford and meet us there. We'll set up farther west."  
"Sounds good. I'll pack up the essentials just in case."  
"Good idea."

Su Lin always enjoyed these trips to town. Although there was not that much to see or do it was still something different than her family's farm. And, of course, there was Jiang. But first, she needed to do her shopping. She took her basket over to the market.

A pleasant couple of hours chatting and haggling with the vendors got her what she needed without giving up too many of her scarce coins. Then she took a side street over to Jiang's little house. He was home, of course; he was the town's tailor and shoemaker.

"Good afternoon, Miss Su Lin. Finished your shopping, I see. Would you like some tea?"  
"Of course."  
"Please sit down." He went into the kitchen; in a few minutes he returned with the tea. They sat down and began to chat.  
He paused. "Oh yes; the present I promised you last time." He went into his workroom, and returned with a small package. "Go ahead, open it."  
She unwrapped it and spread it out; a new coat. "It's beautiful. Thank you, Jiang."  
"You're welcome. It should keep you nice and warm this winter."  
"Indeed." She kissed his cheek. "I must go now; Father will be waiting. Until our next trip."  
"Goodbye, Miss Su Lin. Safe travels." He bowed and opened the door for her.

Her father raised an eyebrow. "A gift from Jiang?"  
"Yes, Father. Beautiful, isn't it?"  
"Yes. It must have cost him much time and effort, not to mention the materials. We will have to repay him properly." She smiled. "If we get enough for the crop you may light the red candles this year. But that remains to be seen, so do not get your hopes up too high."  
"Thank you, Father. Shall we return home now?"  
"Yes. Give me the basket for now. You've carried it far enough today." They set out for home.

Grigori watched the bandits' camp from a hillside above it. Not a bad place for it; virtually invisible unless you were in the valley itself. However, they had put it in the very bottom of the valley; come springtime, when the snow melted, they would be very wet. He smiled at that. It would be easy to attack as well; virtually every point in the valley overlooked it. Like shooting fish in the shallows.

However, that would have to wait. There were only half a dozen of them in the camp at the moment; judging from the size the camp would hold at least five times that many. Which meant that most of them were out on a raid. Have to wait until they returned, to get a count. If the odds weren't too bad he would handle it himself; otherwise he would whistle up the rest of his team. He settled back to wait.

"The tracks lead up into that valley, sergeant. That's Oni territory, though."  
"I know. Any sign of Oni?"  
"None."  
"We'll keep going, then. Hiroshi, your turn to take point."

They set off again. Nogi uneasily followed his sergeant; following bandits into their lair, where they would have all the advantages, was extremely risky. Worse, they were in Oni territory; if they ran into an Oni patrol there would be hell to pay.

The weather was getting colder too. Not even September, and already a hint of snow in the air. Fortunately no sign of either Oni or bandits yet; with luck they would have cleared out and Nogi and his squad mates could trudge back to base. He was looking forward to a hot bath and a hot meal.

Eventually they camped for the night. Even that made Nogi nervous; if the bandits happened on their camp they would go from hunters to hunted. No help for that now. Nogi rolled over and drifted off to sleep.

"Look at that bird; the one with the fancy coat. Bet she'd be fun."  
"Idiot. Business before pleasure; once we've gotten what we came for you can have your fun, but not before. Clear?"  
"Spoilsport."  
"Just keep your pants on until after the raid, and you might live long enough to take them off later."  
"Okay, okay. I get it. So when do we start?"  
"Now."

Su Lin whirled around. That scream … from the town! What was going on? She stared. "Su Lin! Bandits! RUN!" She jerked around to see her father wrestling with another man, trying to keep him from using his rifle. She ran toward him; another man stepped in front of her and casually knocked her to the ground. As she watched, the second man struck her father with his club; he crumpled to the ground.

"FATHER!"

The second man shoved her back. "Don't worry, he'll be all right. Just knocked him out is all. He shouldn't have interfered, and neither should you. So you stay right there. Got that?" She didn't answer; the sight of her unconscious father was more than she could bear. Tears streamed down her face.

Eventually the bandits finished with the town. Their leader came up to Su Lin. "So, you have a name?"  
"Su … Su Lin"  
"Well, Su Lin, you'll be coming with us. Can't have you showing the soldiers where we went or identifying us." Another bandit approached, tied her hands with one end of a rope, then led her away as one would lead an ox. They set off to the north.

An interesting development. Grigori watched through his binoculars as the Japanese soldiers spread out and took cover. It seems they had detected the bandit ambush just in time. The bandits opened fire; at least a dozen of them. The soldiers returned fire, of course; bullets flew everywhere.

Eventually it died down; he counted three bandits still standing. He grinned; with the main party still out on the raid it would just be them against him; child's play. He unlimbered his rifle and began to work his way down toward them.

Nogi swore to himself as he reloaded. The bandits had him pinned down and there was no sign of his squad mates. No matter; he would have to handle them himself. He crawled away to his right; if he could flank them …

The bandit appeared out of nowhere. Nogi missed wildly with his first shot, then both of them were rolling on the ground. A pair of loud bangs nearby; Nogi twisted the bandit around, then slammed him into the ground. The bandit spun around, pistol in hand, but Nogi was faster. A single bullet in the head settled the matter.

He looked around. Where were the other bandits? He crouched and began creeping out of the gully. Then a low growling voice in strongly accented Chinese brought him to a halt.

"Relax. That was the last one. And kindly put your weapon away; I don't want any trouble with you."

Oni. Nogi's heart raced. He knew he was well inside Oni territory, and in deep trouble. He debated with himself for a moment, then slung his rifle and turned toward the voice.

A grinning Oni, with his own rifle. He shifted it to port arms, then strode over to Nogi. "Well met. I'm Grigori Yusupov, scout. You are?"  
"Nogi Taisho, Private, 65th Infantry. If you'll excuse me, I need to see to my squad mates." Nogi's Chinese was not fluent, but he could get by.  
Grigori nodded. "Unfortunately you seem to be the only one left standing, but perhaps one or two of them are still alive. Let's have a look."

They scoured the ground; twelve bandits and Nogi's six squad mates, all dead. The mystery of the loud bangs was resolved; one bandit with his head blown open, and another with a hole in his chest big enough for Nogi to stick his arm through. He had heard about the power of Oni weapons; the tales were not exaggerated.

"My sympathies, Nogi-san. At least you survived to bring the news back to their families."  
Nogi nodded. "I should bury them."  
"I doubt we have time. The main body is returning from their latest raid by now; we should prepare a proper welcome."  
"Indeed." Nogi smiled grimly. "I would enjoy that very much."  
Grigori grinned back at him. "Then gather your friends' ammo and weapons; I'm sure they won't mind."

Nogi did so. Grigori busied himself gathering up the dead bandits, dumping their bodies well outside the camp. Their weapons and ammo he piled in a different spot. Nogi did the same with his squad mates; he would properly bury them later.

They followed the bandits' trail to the south. "Judging from the tracks, about two dozen of them. We'll have to be creative."  
Nogi nodded. "We'll have to split them up somehow, then tackle one group at a time."  
"Exactly."

Su Lin trudged along. Her father unconscious, or possibly even dead; herself kidnapped by bandits, who would probably kill her after they finished amusing themselves in other ways; and who knows what happened to the people in town. Jiang; was he still alive? Injured? More tears.

The bandits were grumbling; doubtless worn out after their trip. The leader kept them in check, but only just. If they didn't get to their camp soon there would be trouble. She was sure of it.

A sudden explosion, followed by screams. The bandits scattered and took cover; her captor dragged her down beside him. "Stay down." It was suddenly quiet; nothing moving.

Eventually the bandits assembled in a hollow.  
"Ma Han and Chou are dead; Fan Ti has a broken arm. Couple others cut up a bit, but nothing serious."  
"So what was it?"  
"Trip wire, with a couple of grenades."  
"A booby trap, right on our path. Who put it there?"  
"No idea. But somebody knows we're here, and doesn't like it."  
"Yeah. Shu, take a couple of others and scout ahead. Make sure there aren't any more surprises waiting for us. Carefully; we don't have that many bandages left."  
"Right."

Grigori smiled. Good; two from twenty three leaves twenty one. Better than he expected. He nodded to Nogi, then crawled back into the depression. They set off to the north, well away from the bandits' path. The only complication would be their prisoner; they would have to be careful. No more booby traps, in case they made her walk ahead of them.

The bandits camped for the night. A half dozen sentries; not very alert, though. Perhaps he could sneak into their camp? He discussed it with Nogi. "First we need to get her out of there; they might harm her otherwise."  
"That will be difficult. If I can get her, can you deal with anyone who might interfere?"  
Grigori thought for a moment. "Agreed. Be careful, Nogi-san; it would not do for you to join your comrades yet."  
"And you; I do not wish to face that many bandits alone." They began to crawl toward the camp.

Su Lin woke with a start; a hand pressed over her mouth. A whisper in her ear; strangely accented Chinese. "Quiet, please. Come with me." She looked; a young Japanese soldier. No matter; he was not a bandit. She grabbed her coat and got up, following him as quietly as she could.

Just as they were almost past him the sentry gave a start. "What …" A meaty thud interrupted his sentence. "Run." She ran, as fast as she could, after Nogi. Another set of footsteps, behind her, gaining on her. She kept running, but a huge arm reached out and swept her off her feet.

She almost screamed; an Oni. He ran after the soldier, carrying her as if she were a small child. In his other hand was a bloody knife as long as her forearm. The soldier did not slacken his pace, but the Oni easily kept up with him. They ran for fifteen minutes, at least; she could not imagine how they managed it. She would have been lying on the ground, gasping for breath; yet they seemed unfazed.

Eventually they paused. "I think we've evaded them for the moment."  
"Probably. But it won't be long before they figure out what happened. Then they're sure to pursue us."  
"Anywhere around here we can safely rest?"  
"A few klicks ahead; a cave. We might have to deal with whatever is inside, though."  
"Better than fighting them out in the open. Lead on; I'll take her for a while."  
The Oni handed her over; the soldier picked her up in his arms and set off after him.

"You're right, boss. Two of them; one's an Oni. Nobody else wears boots that big. They took her. He killed Jin, too; nearly cut his head off."  
"Damn. We'll wait till daylight; we might lose the trail in the dark. Shu, take your buddies and head to camp. Get the boys together, pack up everything, and meet us at the ford." He swore. "The rest of you, pack up our stuff and get ready. We'll start after them at dawn."

At dawn the bandits set out. Fifteen of them, against two; shouldn't be a problem. The trail was clear; the pair hadn't bothered to hide their tracks. They were headed northwest, up into the mountains. Good; that would make it easier to catch up with them. As before, one scouting ahead, one to either side; no more surprises.

Nogi set her down. "That's it?"  
"Yes. Carefully now; no telling what might be in there."  
They advanced, rifles at the ready. She followed, keeping close behind Nogi. It didn't look too bad.

Grigori knelt down, examining something on the ground. He suddenly waved Nogi to a halt and began to back away from the cave, rifle ready. Nogi knelt, his own rifle ready; he reached back and handed her his pistol. She took it in both hands.

She screamed; at the same moment Grigori's rifle boomed twice, then it was on top of him. The Oni and his assailant went rolling down the hill. Nogi scarcely noticed; he was emptying his magazine into the second one. It kept on coming; no time to reload. He tried to block, but it simply swatted the gun from his hands, knocking him to the ground.

The deathclaw towered over him. As it reached down, jaws open, he managed to draw his knife, then was showered with blood as a shot rang out. Several more followed and it collapsed on top of him.

She stood there, trembling, wide eyed, holding the jammed pistol pointed at it. He managed to shove it to one side and scrambled to his feet.

"You all right?"  
"Y …Yes."  
"Wait here." He retrieved his rifle, took the pistol, cleared the jam, and handed it back to her.

He carefully checked his rifle, reloaded, then looked at her. "I need to check the cave to make sure there aren't more of them. If I'm not back in one minute, go see what happened to Grigori. Clear?" She nodded. He turned and started slowly into the cave.

"Sounded like gunshots."  
"Which direction?"  
"Northwest, same direction we're headed."  
"Interesting. At least we know we're headed in the right direction." The boss turned to the rest. "All right, break over. Let's get moving."

That was the longest minute of Su Lin's life. If there were more, and they got him … she would be next. Finally he reappeared. "All clear. Let's go see what happened to Grigori."

They found him about a hundred meters down the hill. The deathclaw was fifty meters further down; it appeared to be dead, its neck broken. "Grigori!" No answer. The soldier knelt over him. "He's alive, but unconscious. Help me turn him over." They managed to roll him over; the back of his head was a bloody mess. The soldier swore, then examined the wound.

"Damn. His skull's fractured. Give me a hand with him; I'll have to carry him." Together they managed to get him onto the soldier's back; she took his rifle. They trudged back up the hill.

"What do you mean, the tracks are gone?"  
"I mean they're gone. As in swept clean."  
"How old are the ones we have?"  
"Twelve hours, more or less."  
"Then we'll keep going in that same direction, until we pick up the trail again. Let's go."

She went in first, pistol ready; he staggered in after her. When they reached a wide spot he stopped and set the Oni down. "I'll get a fire going. See if there's some dry wood outside the cave." Su Lin nodded and set off. When she came back a few minutes later he had the fire going and was examining the Oni. "Clean wound; if it doesn't kill him he might even recover." A few minutes later he had a neat bandage in place.

"Can you cook?" She nodded, yes. "Good. Check my pack; there should be tea and dried food. See what you can do." He picked up his rifle and walked out of the cave.

A few minutes later he reappeared with the Oni's pack and rifle. He set them down beside him, then squatted next to her. "How are you doing?"  
"Well enough. Tea's ready; I'll have the muku ready in a few minutes."  
He nodded approval, poured two cups of tea. Then he went over to the Oni's pack and rummaged around in it. He extracted a satchel and opened it.

He nodded, then took a syringe, filled it from an ampoule, and injected it into the Oni's arm. He put everything away, then sat back to wait. A couple of minutes later the Oni's eyes flickered open. "Welcome back. You had us worried for a while."  
The Oni groaned and shifted. "Stop. Stay right there. You have a skull fracture; you're not going anywhere for a while."  
The Oni reached back and touched it, wincing in pain. "Damn. Got anything for a headache?"  
The soldier smiled at that. "Sorry. Not until I'm sure it's stopped bleeding."  
"That shouldn't take too long." The Oni reached out, took a cup of tea, and drained it in one long swallow.

Su Lin promptly refilled it, then set bowls of muku in front of each of them. The Oni drained his, then took his time with the second one. After they finished he cradled his tea and looked at her.  
"You are?"  
"Su Lin."  
"I'm Grigori Yusupov. This is Private Nogi Taisho. So, any idea why the bandits took you?"  
"I .. was unlucky. In the wrong place at the wrong time. They said it was to keep me from telling anyone who they were or where they went."  
"I see. Unfortunately we believe the bandits will follow us here. So we cannot stay here long. Speaking of which, you did check this cave, right?"

Nogi smiled at that. "Of course. The deathclaws were probably a newly mated pair; there were no young or eggs. Their bodies are at the bottom of the ravine."  
"Good. The local scavengers should enjoy that. Thanks for saving me, by the way."  
"Thank her. She killed the second one before it could kill me; if she hadn't none of us would be here."  
Su Lin blushed at that. Grigori looked at her and nodded. "Thank you both. You are uninjured?"  
"Yes."  
"Good. Then we should be able to travel in a few hours."

Nogi looked startled. "With a skull fracture?"  
Grigori smiled, then winced. "We Oni heal much faster than you regular humans. My skull won't be completely healed for a week or so, but the other damage will heal in a matter of hours. Which will be good enough for our purposes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day." With that he rolled over and closed his eyes; in a few minutes he was snoring.

Nogi sighed and shook his head. "I'm going to keep watch for a bit. Get some sleep." He took his rifle and left the cave. Su Lin cleaned up the dishes as best she could, then banked the fire and laid down beside it. Not as comfortable as her bed at home, but better than what the bandits would have offered. She drifted off in no time.

"Stop!" The chief's signal sent the rest of the bandits scurrying for cover. He crouched and scuttled up to where his scout was kneeling. "What's up?"  
"Tripwire." He pointed at a spot a few meters away.  
"Well, check it out. And be careful, right?"  
"Right."

He was back in a few seconds. "It's a dummy; not connected to anything."  
"Damn them. We'll have to be careful anyway; the next one might be real."  
"Yeah." The scout went back to his position; the chief's signal got them moving again.

Nogi shook her awake. "Get ready; we have to go now."  
She looked at Grigori; the Oni was already awake. Grigori pointed at the fire. "Take your breakfast before we go."  
She nodded, grabbed the tea and bread and wolfed it down. When she finished Nogi stuffed the mug into his pack and shouldered it. "Ready?"  
"Yes."  
"Let's go."

"How close are they?"  
"About two hours away. Fifteen of them, by my count. I left them a few presents, which will slow them down a little."  
Grigori grinned. "I can imagine. If memory serves there is a trail a bit west of here which leads away to the north. I took the trouble to report in; my buddies will be coming to meet us."  
Nogi nodded. "Good. We can use a little help. Shall we?" They set off up the ravine to the west, Grigori in the lead, Nogi bringing up the rear.

Su Lin found it hard going; hiking over rough terrain, steadily climbing, was exhausting. By the time they had gone five kilometers she was stumbling with fatigue. Grigori looked back at her. "You need a rest?" She nodded, yes. He strode over and picked her up with one arm, then set off up the ravine.

In a few more minutes they came to Grigori's northward leading trail. "Not yet; let's go west a bit more, then double back to it. We'll let them pass us, then leave a few more presents for them before we go." Nogi smiled, then trotted off to the west, with Su Lin and Grigori following.

Another five kilometers, then they doubled back, brushing out their tracks as they went. By the time they got back to the trail they could see the dust from the approaching bandits. "So they are following us. Let's get well up the trail and out of sight, just in case they decide to have a look up here." Grigori led them up the trail, while Nogi brushed out their tracks.

They stopped a few hundred meters up the trail. Grigori could see the bandits approaching; fifteen of them, just as Nogi said. One ahead, one left, one right, the rest following. Now to see what happened when they got to the trail.

"The tracks lead to the west. Nobody went north."  
"They brushed out their tracks before, remember. Fan Ti, Lu, Khang, head west; Ma, Tsu, Din, head north. Be back here in one hour. We'll decide then which way to go." He paused. "Oh, and don't get careless. If you make contact, hightail it back here. Got that?"  
"Right."  
"Get moving."

Grigori swore. "They didn't take the bait. Two… three heading west, three heading toward us, the rest staying put."  
"So now what?"  
"We're too close to the main body. They'll spot us for sure."  
"Can we avoid being seen here?"  
"Not likely. But if we can take the three coming this way quietly, then move out before the main body can react, we might have a chance to outrun them."

Nogi nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps if we arrange a diversion." He crawled up the trail, carefully staying in cover. Grigori looked at Su Lin, nodded up the trail. They started after Nogi, keeping off the trail and out of sight.

They moved until they were out of sight of the main group of bandits, then Nogi arranged his diversion. Once he had finished he moved over to the side of the trail with Grigori. "That should grab their attention long enough for us to take them."  
Grigori nodded, then moved off the trail into cover. Su Lin was already there. "Stay put and let us handle it. If the bandits get the better of us your best bet is to head up the trail toward my buddies." She nodded; she still had Nogi's pistol in her hands. Grigori drew his knife and crouched, waiting.

Tsu looked suspiciously up the trail. Something did not seem right about this. There was no sign of their quarry, but that didn't mean anything; there was enough cover to hide a small army and they could simply have stayed off the trail.

Din suddenly stopped.  
"What is it?"  
"Trip wire. There." He pointed at a spot about five meters ahead. In that moment Ma gave a strangled cry. They whipped around to see an Oni standing over them with a huge knife in his hand. Din was dead, throat cut, before he could even cry out. Tsu stepped back, drawing his pistol, then a knife entered his spine from behind and everything went black.

"Su Lin! Come on!" She pushed through the bushes onto the trail, then the three of them set off to the north. "Have to get as far ahead of them as we can; it won't be long before they figure out what happened."

A commotion on the trail behind them. "That was quick."  
"Yes. Keep going. See if we can find a good spot to hold them off." They ran up the trail another couple hundred meters. "There. Where it crosses the ridge. Set up on the far side."  
"Right."

A couple of shots behind them as they crossed the ridgeline; the bandits had caught sight of them. Grigori nodded at Nogi, then headed into the bushes to his right while Nogi led Su Lin off to the left. They took cover in a cluster of large boulders, from where they had a good view of the trail, then settled down to wait.

Sure enough, in a couple of minutes a bandit poked his head over the ridge. Nogi smiled to himself; grown cautious, have they? Good. If they could be persuaded to run …

"They've taken cover off to the left of the trail, just over the ridge."  
The chief nodded. "Chang, take Fan Ti and Liang to the left and come at them from behind. We'll give you a minute or so, then come at them from the front. Wait until you hear us before you go in, but come on as soon as you do. Got it?"  
"Yes."  
"Good. Get moving."

Nogi could hear them moving up the trail, spreading out along the ridge. Good; if they came up the trail they would be in a crossfire. He willed himself to relax; any moment now.  
Bullets spattered the boulders as half a dozen bandits came charging over the ridge straight at him. He fired short bursts at each of them, dropping half before they got close.  
Loud bangs from the other side of the trail told of Grigori's successes; the bandits' supporting fire stopped.

The last three bandits turned to find Grigori pointing an enormous rifle at them. A flurry of shots put all three of them down, along with Grigori. Nogi swore at that. "Grigori!"  
"Yeah, I'm all right. Just got me in the leg is all."

"Nogi!" Su Lin's shout brought him spinning around to face three more coming in from behind him. He dropped the first; the second fired simultaneously with him and they both went down. A few more shots; Nogi raised his head to see the last bandit lying against a tree with a neat hole in his forehead and Su Lin standing over him with pistol ready. He lay back and fainted.

"Nogi-san!" No reply; Grigori swore to himself. Su Lin helped him get Nogi's shirt open; not good. Two bullets in the chest. They bandaged him as best they could. "We need to get him back to my camp, fast." She paused in her bandaging of his leg and looked at him. "Head up the trail and find my buddies, then lead them back here. I'll tell them you're coming. And do be careful, Su Lin; we need you alive." She nodded, then scrambled to her feet and set off to the north. Grigori sighed and lay back against a nearby boulder. Nothing to do now but wait.

She found them about five klicks to the north. Three Oni; they could have been Grigori's brothers, they looked so much like him. The leader listened intently to her quick explanation, then swept her up in one arm and set off down the trail, with the others close behind.

Grigori swore. More bandits. He could hear them coming up the trail toward him. Half a dozen at least, from the sounds. He pulled Nogi into cover, then readied himself. Sure enough, here they came, creeping up toward him. He took careful aim at the nearest.

Pandemonium. Gunfire from every direction, it seemed. The bandits dropped like flies; none came even close to hitting him.  
He looked up to see his team emerge from cover, along with Su Lin, weapons ready. "Your timing is perfect, as usual."  
"Good to hear. Can you walk?"  
"Afraid not, at least not for a day or two."  
"No matter. How is he?"  
The medic kneeling by Nogi replied. "Stable, for the moment. We need to get him back to camp post haste, though."  
The leader nodded. "We'll carry them." A couple of minutes to improvise harnesses, then the three set off to the north carrying Su Lin, Nogi, and Grigori.

Nogi climbed out of the well. At least that's what it seemed like; he looked around the room. A rude hut, with medical gear and beds strewn about. An Oni medic with an enormous hypodermic looked at him. "Welcome back. How do you feel?" Passable Japanese, if strangely accented.  
"Weak, but alive."  
"Good. They got you here in plenty of time. No problem to extract the bullets and patch you up. You'll be fully recovered in a couple of months. Oh, and don't worry; your superiors have been informed of the situation, so you're not in any trouble."

A familiar face appeared at the door. "Ah, Grigori. Your friend is awake." Chinese, this time. Versatile, these Oni. "I'll leave you two alone. Don't keep him long; he needs his rest." The medic went out.  
"Well, have you been enjoying your rest? You've been out a couple of days since they brought you in."  
"The medic says I'll be okay in a couple of months. How's your leg?"  
"Good as new. Su Lin will be by later; she's busy talking to some of the others right now."

Grigori grew serious. "Your comrades' bodies have been returned to their families. Although they were in our territory at the time our government has approved their actions; they even went so far as to officially honor their sacrifice. Here's your copy." He handed Nogi a letter.  
Nogi took a moment to read it, nodding in approval. "I'm sure their families will appreciate that. Thank you."

Grigori reached out and patted his shoulder. "Now hurry up and get well. We have a wedding to attend." He smiled, rose, and walked out of the hut.

"Father!" His son, standing at the edge of the field.  
"What is it?" He pointed at figures in the distance, approaching their farm. Strange; travelers from the north were rare enough, but what were they doing here? He walked over to join his son.  
An Oni soldier; no mistaking that. A Japanese soldier, beside him. And the third figure … He broke into a run, but his son easily outpaced him.

"Su Lin!"  
"Father! Brother!"  
They dissolved into an orgy of tears and hugs as Grigori and Nogi looked on bemused. After a few moments they regained their composure. Su Min looked around at her and her companions. "Don't just stand there; come inside. Your mother will want to see you, too, you know."

They all entered the farmhouse. After more tears and hugs, and suitable introductions, they settled in for dinner and tea. The stories lasted long into the night. At last Su Min and his wife looked at each other.  
"It is time."  
"Indeed. Su Lin, we will be going to town tomorrow. It is time to light your red candles."  
More tears and hugs.

The next day they went to town. The whole town turned out to greet them; it seemed Su Lin's brother had already arrived and regaled them with their stories. Eventually they were allowed a little peace and they made their way to Jiang's shop.

Never was a man so happy as Jiang. He smiled so wide Su Lin was sure it would meet in the back and the top of his head would fall off. When told of her parents' decision he was practically walking on the ceiling. Finally he calmed down enough for rational discussion.  
"Of course. Just let me know what day would be acceptable; I will take care of everything."  
Su Min smiled. "Oh no you don't. I only have the one daughter and you are not going to cheat me of the pleasure of marrying her off properly. I will take care of the arrangements; you just show up properly dressed and sober."  
They worked it out.

"It is time for us to return. I wish to be back home before nightfall; no more knots on the head."  
Grigori laughed. "Not from that bunch; none of them are left. And considering what happened to them, any others will avoid you like a deathclaw's mother."  
Everyone had a chuckle at that.

"Gentlemen, one moment please." Su Lin and her father nodded and left. Jiang reached under the counter and handed Grigori and Nogi each a package. They opened them; finely embroidered wool scarves.  
"Beautiful. How much do we owe you?"  
"Nothing. It is I who owe you. You returned Su Lin to me; ten thousand scarves would not pay for that. Those are just small tokens of my appreciation for what you have done. If ever you need anything from me you have only to ask."  
Grigori smiled at him. "Thank you. I shall wear it always, in your honor - and hers." Nogi nodded in agreement.

Jiang was still smiling when they left.

Su Min looked at his friend. "And that is how an Oni and a Japanese soldier came to be sitting side by side as guests at my daughter's wedding." He turned to watch her join her new husband at the altar. Yes, she was truly beautiful.

NOTE:

First, in Chinese culture the color red signifies happiness and good fortune; red candles are traditionally burned at Chinese weddings and other happy occasions.

Second, muku is soup made from pureed lentils mixed with various spices. In current Japanese slang the word means "sewage"; the soup is so called because its color and texture resemble sewage. There is no one recipe for it, but most such recipes are actually tasty and nutritious. In dried form it will keep for months, hence is a popular choice for travelers.


	3. Chapter 3 History Lesson

HISTORY LESSON

"But grandfather, that's not how the humans do it?"  
"Don't call me grandfather, unless you want me to beat you. Clear?"  
"Yes, Elder. Sorry."  
"Good. No, that's not how the humans do it. They do it exactly like oxen, if more discreetly."  
"Their young come from the females, after coupling?"  
"Exactly."  
"But we couple, too. I've seen you and gr … Elder Grushka … together. Do not young come from our couplings?"

Sigh. How to explain it to one so young? Elder Ivan looked at young Mikhail. "Yes, we couple as well. It is pleasurable for both; a way to show that we care for each other. In time you will find a suitable mate as well; then you will learn the joys of coupling. But, to answer your question, no, our couplings do not produce young."  
"But why not? Are we not like them? Are we not born. Do we not live? Do we not die?"  
"Yes, we are like them. We do live, if only for a short while. We die, in time, just as they do. But no, we are not born. Not in the way you mean it."  
"I do not understand."  
"Where did you come from?"  
"From the birthing place, as all do."  
"Yes. But that name is inaccurate, for it is not truly a birthing place. It is more a growing place, like a greenhouse. A greenhouse which grows Oni rather than plants."

"We are plants?"  
Ivan smiled at the incredulous look on Mikhail's face. "No, but we are grown, much as plants are grown."  
Mikhail looked puzzled. "I have seen plants growing. They are all alike. Oni are not; each is different from all others. How is it that the … growers … make each of us different? Why do they do so?"  
"First, plants are not all alike. Even two stalks of wheat are different; one short, one tall, one straight, the other bent. Pay close attention and you will see. As for why they make us different, there are two reasons. First is that we are different so that we may perform different tasks; different tools for different jobs. Would you try to cut wood with a screwdriver? Drive nails with a saw? Mix paint with a hammer? No. You need the proper tool for the job at hand."

"The second reason is for safety. If a disease strikes the wheat we still have corn to eat. If the peaches are blighted the apples will not be harmed. If Oni were all the same a disease which harmed one would harm all; we cannot risk that. We are made different so that no one disease or defect can harm the whole race of Oni."

"As for how they do so, I do not know, exactly; I am a soldier, not a scientist. But the changes they make are tiny; even though you are different from your brothers you are still Oni. Too large a change and you would not be. The scientists are careful not to make too big a change, lest the result be monstrous."

"I understand, I think." He still looked puzzled, though. "Was it always so? Were there always Oni and birthing places?"  
"No, there have only been such for less than three hundred years."  
"No longer? The humans say they have been here for millions of years; that cannot be so, can it?"  
"None know for sure. There are only records for the last ten thousand years or so; before that we can only guess. There is simply not enough evidence from that long ago to be certain of anything."

"The humans say they created us. Is that true?"  
"Yes, it is."  
"How did this come to be? And if true, why do we rule here and not they?"  
Elder Ivan looked appraisingly at Mikhail. A perceptive question; perceptive indeed. "Very well. But you must not repeat this to any other. Agreed?"  
"Yes."

Ivan leaned back and began.

JANUARY 31ST, 2032 - OMSK RESEARCH INSTITUTE

Doctor Yuri Alexiyevich Popov leaned back in his chair. Finally, after so many years of study, so many letters, so much discussion, they had finally accepted his proposal. The genetic research program was approved. He could finally begin the work; twenty years late, maybe, but better late than never. At forty years old he was still as sharp and energetic as ever; his hair might be a little gray around the edges, but he was still young.

He looked at the men seated in his office. "Gentlemen, we can at last begin the work we came here to do. We can, by modifying the human genome, produce superior humans; free from genetic defect, free from the threat of disease, free from the infirmities of old age." He smiled. "Or at least take the first small steps on that long road. Let us get to work."

JULY 7TH, 2035 - OMSK RESEARCH INSTITUTE

"Yes, Yuri, I understand your concern. But the ministry wishes it this way, and Doctor Leonin is an experienced administrator. With him in charge of the institute you will be relieved of most of the administrative responsibilities and can devote more time to your research. You said yourself that was what you wanted, remember?"  
"Yes, but if he interferes in my research …"  
"Come now; what makes you think he will? Give the man a chance, at least. Talk to him, voice your concerns. See what he has to say."  
"All right. It's just that, well, to make such a change without even notifying me, much less discussing it with me, is … upsetting."

"For the record, I didn't like that either and told the ministry so in no uncertain terms. It was discourteous, to say the least. But it is done and we will have to make the best of it. Now go have your chat with him and find out where you stand."  
"All right, all right. I'll go see him now. You're right, of course; he's here, whether I like it or not, and I should make the best of it."

"Ah, Doctor Popov. Please come in; have a seat. Tea?"  
"Yes, thank you."  
Doctor Leonin poured two cups and handed one to him. "Thank you for coming. I understand you were upset at the ministry's decision to supersede you, or more precisely at their callous handling of the matter. Please accept my apologies at least; I would have preferred to consult with you first before making such a change. However, the minister insisted that I immediately take charge; it was clear that if I did not they would replace me with another, probably someone less qualified. That would have been disastrous; some political hack in charge here could do untold harm and set the programs back years."

"Programs?"  
"Ah, caught that, did you? Good. Yes, programs, plural. The ministry has received a, ah, request from Supreme Headquarters. They have shown great interest in your work, especially now that your first results are in."  
"Really. Do go on."  
Doctor Leonin smiled. "Yes. In fact they have specifically requested the production of genetically modified individuals for possible military service."

Doctor Popov sat up straight and set down his tea. "You are aware that viral genetic modification, which is currently the only viable method of creating such individuals, is still in the testing stages? Not even ready for field trials?"  
"Yes I am, and so are they. That is why we are setting up a separate program. Your original program will continue as planned. The second program, which will also be under your direction, will work toward fulfilling the military's request. And that is why I am here; to have to direct the Institute and two separate research programs would be too much for anyone to handle. You are much too valuable to lose to overwork and exhaustion."

"Thank you for your concern. I suppose it would be of no avail to protest the diversion of resources to the military's program?"  
"Unfortunately not. However, the military has agreed to fund the Institute's research, all of it, while their program is underway. So we will be able to hire additional staff to alleviate at least some of the strain on resources. In the meantime I will do what I can to increase our resources; it is clear that the present facilities are not adequate to provide for two such programs."

"Certainly not. Just before you came I was looking into setting up a subsidiary laboratory in Novosibirsk, to carry out some of the necessary testing." Doctor Popov got up and walked around the desk to a file cabinet and rummaged around in it. "Ah, here we go." He extracted a file and laid it on the desk. "Not an ideal site, perhaps, but sufficient for our needs. Until now, that is."

Doctor Leonin looked quickly through the file, pausing here and there to make small quick notations on the documents. "Yes, this will make an excellent start. We'll definitely go forward with it. Did you have someone picked to run it?"  
"Not yet."  
Doctor Leonin smiled. "In that case I do. You remember Doctor Denisov? Leningrad?"  
"Yes. More of a clerk than a scientist."

"True, but a good administrator, which is what we need first. I'll see if he's available. In the meantime pick someone from your staff to be the chief researcher there."  
Doctor Popov nodded. "I'll do that."  
"Excellent. Now, was there anything else you wished to discuss?"  
"No, you have answered all my questions for the moment. Don't be surprised if I come back with more, though."  
Doctor Leonin smiled. "My door is always open, at least while I'm in my office. Have a pleasant afternoon, Doctor, and thank you for coming."

MARCH 12TH, 2037 - OMSK RESEARCH INSTITUTE

Doctor Popov scowled at the letter on his desk. It was as he feared; the ministry was interfering in his research. Not directly, of course. But their insistence on awarding priority to the military project was interfering, nonetheless. In a way he understood; the military was funding the entire institute, after all; it was natural that they would want a say in how it was run.

They simply did not understand the implications. If his program succeeded all would benefit, including them. Recruits who were free from defects, healthy, and vigorous; what military would not want that? Yet they focused on short term goals, unwilling to wait for results. He shook his head and went back to writing his reply.

Protest, really. He didn't expect it to do any good, but at least he would be on record. Although the program for genetically modifying existing humans was, at first glance, successful, there were disturbing trends. Even though they were, to all intents and purposes, human, they were viewed by others as freaks. They were finding it difficult to be accepted by unmodified humans.

He shrugged. The military would proceed with production regardless. Given the current shortfall in recruiting they had no real choice; either use "muties", as the modified humans were derogatorily called, or unreliable minorities and foreigners. Perhaps they would come to be accepted; but if not …

NOVEMBER 19TH, 2040 - OMSK RESEARCH INSTITUTE

"Worse than I feared. And they blame me for it! In spite of all the warnings I issued they went ahead with it. And it has blown up in their faces, as I forecasted." Doctor Popov looked at Doctor Denisov. "And now they want to terminate their program, along with all the funding for the institute. Idiots."  
Denisov held up his hands. "Please calm down, Yuri. We both know the truth of the matter; you are preaching to the choir. Now let us see if we can salvage something from the wreck. We will terminate the military program, as they request; I have already publicly promised that. As for your original program, we will try to keep that going, although finding funding for it may be difficult."

"If only Leonin were still here … sorry; no offense meant."

"None taken. He was a master diplomat and a wizard at administration; I miss him greatly. His death was indeed a severe blow. But, in his absence we will have to carry on as best we can. In the current circumstances it would be best if you made no public statements or appearances; such research is currently in disfavor and drawing attention to it would be unwise. Carry on with your work, Yuri, but please do so quietly. Understood?"  
"Of course. Are you still moving the research to Novosibirsk?"  
"Yes. We may have to close this portion of the institute, if we cannot find sufficient funding. If you are established there your program could still proceed in that event. I will try to avoid that, but the outlook is not promising. Best to be prepared for the worst."

Doctor Popov nodded assent. "We already have a contingency plan for that in place; I'll put it in motion. Do your best to find the funding, Doctor Denisov; we will need it."

AUGUST 12TH, 2042 - NOVOSIBIRSK RESEARCH LABORATORIES

"Yes, Doctor Popov. By order of the Ministry of Science your research program is to be terminated immediately. And you are transferred to the Moscow Institute, with orders to report to Doctor Sakharov there two weeks from today." Doctor Denisov looked up from the letter he was reading. "I'm sorry Yuri, but this leaves me no choice. We will close up the Novosibirsk laboratories within the next week; most of the personnel have already been reassigned. There will be a caretaker staff assigned; hopefully we can resume the program in a few years, when the political climate is not so unfavorable."

"Is it true that you're being retired?"  
"Yes. Actually they offered me the choice between myself and you, but it would have been a cowardly act to have you retired to save my own career. I am not a saint, but I am no coward. So I will relax and pleasantly go to pieces while you suffer in silence in Moscow. Yuri, for your sake, please do not do anything to get yourself in trouble. Your work is too important not to be finished, but you must still be there to do so. Be patient; your time will come."

"I know. You say Mikhailov is doing much the same work, but with plants?"  
"Yes. I suggest you work with him. That way you can keep your hand in. And perhaps you can help each other out; I'm told he has done much to improve our agricultural output with new strains of disease resistant crops."  
"Doubtful. Plants and humans do not have that much in common; most of his research will not be applicable."  
"Perhaps not, but keep an open mind anyway. No telling what you might find useful."  
"True. Well, the sooner this is done the better. I'll start packing tonight."

Denisov nodded. "Excellent. Good night, Yuri; if I don't see you again, the best of luck to you."  
"Thank you, Pavel. The same to you."

SEPTEMBER 4TH, 2043 - MOSCOW RESEARCH INSTITUTE

"I understand you perfectly, Yuri. But that will not work for plants. Genetic modification will only work on plants in the embryonic stage; after that any attempt to change their genetic makeup would simply kill them. Really, it is only by chance that it works on humans; most of the lower animals cannot be so modified either."

Doctor Mikhailov looked at him. "I know; chance is perhaps the wrong word. But our genetic makeup is unique in that respect. Now, given the results, such modification is, ah, politically risky; if it were discovered that we were pursuing such studies we would be subject to disciplinary measures, as they so quaintly put it. So we cannot, for the moment, do so."

"However, I do not foresee any immediate difficulties with alternate methods."  
"Such as?" "Such as preconceptual modification. Genetically modifying sperm cells and ova, then combining them to create an embryo and implanting such in healthy females to carry to term."  
"And we would carry out such a program how? The ministry would never approve such a thing."  
"True. So it would have to be carried out outside of ministry control."

Doctor Popov leaned back in his chair. "And we would fund it how? Carry it out where?"  
Doctor Mikhailov smiled at him. "I know certain … individuals … who have expressed interest in such a program."  
"Individuals?"  
"Yes. They could facilitate your research, if it suited their needs."  
"Indeed."

They looked at each other intently.

Doctor Mikhailov smiled. "Since you seem interested, I will arrange a meeting. I'll contact you when I have done so. Good night, Yuri."

DECEMBER 9TH, 2043 - TROFIM RESTAURANT, MOSCOW

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Doctor Popov. Our employer has been following your work with great interest. It was truly a shame that the short sighted fools at Supreme Headquarters made such a mess of things, and worse that you were blamed for their failure, when you had done all in your power to warn them against their course of action."

"And now you are relegated to this inferior position where they are watching your every move, waiting for you to make a mistake; for the least excuse to be rid of you." The speaker looked evenly at Doctor Popov. "They did not tell you that last, did they? But that is the reason you were transferred to Moscow; so you would be under their watchful eye."

"My employer would like to make use of your services. We would fund your program under our auspices; in exchange we would ask you to run a program of our choosing. Do not worry; we are not such fools as Supreme Headquarters, to rush blindly into full scale production without making sure the product would be acceptable first."

"And what sort of program did you have in mind?"  
"Similar to theirs, actually; genetic modification of selected individuals for specific purposes. Ours would be much more selective and on a much smaller scale; no more than a dozen such individuals per year. Are you willing to direct such a program?"  
"Possibly. I would need to know more before I could make an intelligent decision."

The speaker leaned forward over the table. "Very well. We wish to modify individuals to serve as agents in foreign countries. At present we have to rely on natives, whose loyalty is uncertain, or foreigners, who are viewed with suspicion. Neither is truly satisfactory. But one who had the genetic makeup of a native would be, in all physical respects, a native and could move among them without suspicion. And that is why our interest in your research."

Doctor Popov set down his glass. "Unfortunately that may not be entirely possible. Viral genetic modification involves inserting a tailored virus into the subject; the virus then modifies the DNA of the subject's cells, over time replacing the original cells with the newer versions. It is a gradual process, taking place over twenty months or so; the exact amount of time required varies from subject to subject."

"However, only living cells are so changed. Things like hair, fingernails, and, most importantly, bones are not affected. Hair and nails are regularly replaced by the body, so as the cells which generate them are changed their output also changes, and therefore the hair and nails are changed as a result of the other changes."

"Bones, however, are not changed. Once a human reaches adulthood his skeleton is as it will be for the rest of his life; the body will repair damage to it, slowly, but will not otherwise change it. Changing the body's DNA will not change that. So any individuals we modify will retain their original skeletal structure."

"As you well know, racial differences are much more than simply skin tone and texture. A Mongol's skeletal structure is different from a Slav's, for example. The cheekbones are wider and flatter, for one thing. And that would not be affected by modification. So although our modifications could produce the skin tone and texture of a Mongol, it could not produce the underlying skeletal structure common to Mongols. The resulting individual would resemble a Mongol, especially to our eyes, but could not pass for one among other Mongols. At best he could be passed off as a mixed breed, part Mongol, part Slav, to continue with our example."

"Whether such a result would be useful to you is for you to decide, of course. But it is best if you are aware of the limitations before deciding whether to proceed with such a program."

The speaker nodded in comprehension. "I see. It would be necessary, therefore, to start the modifications before puberty to produce changes to the skeletal structure."  
He smiled at the expression on Doctor Popov's face. "Do not worry, Doctor. I am not suggesting experimenting on children; I find that idea as repugnant as you do. No, what I suggest is modifying embryos, much as Doctor Mikhailov has suggested."  
"Such embryos, even if successful, would require the same amount of time as a normal human to mature. Are you really willing to wait twenty years for the return on your investment?"

The speaker leaned back in his chair. "I will be honest and say that we would prefer not to have to wait so long. But if we must, we will."  
"So you have your choice; partial modification in under two years, or full modification in twenty years. And the latter is not certain by any means; we have not tried such a thing, not once."  
"Then we will be breaking new ground. Assuming you agree to do it. Are you agreeing to this, Doctor?"  
"In principle, yes. We have yet to work out the details, though."

The speaker smiled. "Good. I will be in touch with you at a later date to let you know where matters stand. Until then, thank you Doctor, and may you have a pleasant evening."

MAY 1ST, 2044 - MOSCOW RESEARCH INSTITUTE

"So it is true. You are really resigning from the Academy."  
"Thanks to you, yes. Your … individuals … as you put it, have been most helpful. They have agreed to fund my research; I can finally resume where I left off two years ago. And I am out from under the dead hand of the Ministry, thank God."

Doctor Mikhailov smiled at him. "Happy to have been of assistance. You were wasted following me around; now you'll be doing what you were meant to do. Good luck to you, Yuri."  
"And to you, Andrushka."

AUGUST 7TH, 2045 - NOVOSIBIRSK RESEARCH LABORATORIES

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Welcome, or welcome back, to Novosibirsk, as the case may be. Most of you know why you are here. For those who do not, we will be doing genetic research. The main program is dedicated to making improvements to the human genome in the hope of eradicating genetic defects, increasing disease resistance, and delaying and reducing the effects of aging. I am well aware that this is a massive undertaking, which will not be completed within our lifetimes. But we can at least take the first few steps down that road."

"The secondary program, which we are undertaking at the express request of our sponsor, will be engaged in the practical use of viral genetic modification on adult humans. The methods and goals of this program are, on our sponsor's request, restricted to those actually working on the program. Indeed, its very existence is not to be acknowledged outside these walls. Any who discuss any aspect of it outside the laboratory will be severely dealt with. I trust that is clear to all of you."

"Very well. Gentlemen, let's get to work."

FEBRUARY 23RD, 2048 - NOVOSIBIRSK RESEARCH LABORATORIES

"Excellent work, Doctor. You have exceeded our expectations. As you said, the skeletal structure is unchanged, but otherwise the result is exactly what we are looking for. Now it is time to move on to the next stage."  
"We wish the next batch made to these specifications. An even dozen, half male, half female. How soon can you have them ready?"

"Fortunately we have already made an individual of that type; otherwise we would have to analyze the DNA and tailor the virus to make the required changes, which would take months or even years. But in this case, with the existing template, they will be ready for testing in two years."

"Actually they will be deployed in the field. That is, after indoctrination, they will be sent to that country as field agents. We shall see how well your work stands up to actual use."

"As far as functioning, they will do fine. The changes are cosmetic, after all. But they will still not pass for native when compared to other natives. Do so yourself and you will see; they simply look different. You should be circumspect in their employment; try to keep them away from direct contact with natives, so those differences are hidden as much as possible."

"Thank you for the advice, Doctor. We will, as much as possible, follow it. But we cannot avoid all such contact; it will be up to the agents to handle the resulting situations as best they can." He paused. "In any case, whether they succeed or fail, it will be their success or failure, not yours. You have done your part well, no matter what the outcome."

His departure left a troubled Doctor Popov sitting behind his desk; despite his reassurance it sounded exactly like the beginning of the Supreme Headquarters' fiasco. Yes, almost exactly the same.

OCTOBER 1ST, 2050 - NOVOSIBIRSK RESEARCH LABORATORIES

"So the results are in. Four of your twelve were rounded up last week by the Korean authorities; the remainder are in hiding. It seems that I was right; they simply did not look right to natives. So what will you do now?"

His visitor did not look at all happy. "Unfortunately their decision to cooperate with the authorities has exposed our program to everyone. We will have to terminate that portion of it, I'm afraid. As for the embryonic modifications, that can continue for the time being. I won't lie to you, Yuri; if that is terminated also my employer will almost certainly cease funding the laboratory. That would be tragic. I have seen some of the work your people have been doing; I believe that in a few years, perhaps as few as five years, you could begin producing modified humans. I'm not saying you should; just that you could."

"Now, I have a suggestion for you. Just in case the worst happens, you understand. If they withdraw their funding you won't be able to keep working here; the place belongs to them and they would close it down. But here," producing a large map of Outer Mongolia and opening it on the conference table, "is another possible location for you. Here, in the Khinggan Mountains. This used to be a research facility, about fifty years ago, although I have been unable to discover exactly what research was done there. Until about five months ago it was an army base, but they closed it due to the recent budget cuts."

"You could, if funds were made available, purchase it from the army; I'm sure they could be persuaded to part with it for a reasonable sum. And funds will be made available; I have been quietly arranging that." He paused for a moment. "Although in the middle of nowhere you won't have the most comfortable lifestyle, neither will you be bothered by pesky ministry officials or functionaries like me. So you might actually get some work done, for a change."

Doctor Popov smiled at that. "It would be out of sight, out of mind, as the saying goes. We should begin that immediately. I'll start planning the move tonight; you're certain we can secure the site for our use?"

"If the army will part with it, yes. I'll get to work on that first thing tomorrow. Good night, Yuri."

NOVEMBER 1ST, 2052 - NOVOSIBIRSK RESEARCH LABORATORIES

October 31st, 2052, 1502.05.03

To: Doctor Yuri Alexiyevich Popov, Novosibirsk Research Laboratories.

From: Alexei Novudov, Procurement Division.

Doctor, the matter is concluded. The Directorate has terminated the embryo research program and ordered the closing of the Novosibirsk facility. We should, therefore, implement our contingency plan. The Army assures me that all harmful materials have been removed and the facility has been thoroughly decontaminated. Nevertheless, we should exercise caution; in the past such claims have proven … inaccurate. I will see that all future supply deliveries are routed to the new facility.

Good luck to you in your new home.

Regards, Alexei.

MARCH 17TH, 2054 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

Doctor Popov leaned back in his chair. Finally they were ready to resume. The Army's claim to have removed all harmful materials and decontaminated the facility had proven, to put it bluntly, a lie. They had discovered on their arrival that not only was the facility not decontaminated, but an entire warehouse full of chemical weapons had been left behind. At first they refused to even acknowledge their existence, but they removed them promptly enough when he suggested delivering the weapons directly to Supreme Headquarters itself. He smiled at that memory. But it had taken the better part of eighteen months to decontaminate the facility to the point where they could resume their research.

It was, as Alexei had said, Spartan. But they were not here to vacation. Better still, he had been able to reserve some of the funds and invest them. Now he had a source of financing entirely his own; no matter what happened he could continue with the research, without interruption. He nodded in satisfaction and returned to his work.

FEBRUARY 19TH, 2056 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

February 18th, 2056

To: Doctor Yuri Alexiyevich Popov, Khinggan Research Facility.

From: Alexei Novudov, Moscow Investment Group.

Yuri,

It is with the deepest regret that I have to inform you of the board's decision to terminate their sponsorship of your facility. Given our company's financial condition, we had no other option. Hopefully your efforts to obtain independent financing will be successful and you will be able to continue with your research. As always, I will continue to help with that in any way that I can.

Regards,

Alexei.

FEBRUARY 21ST, 2056 - MOSCOW INVESTMENT GROUP

February 20th, 2056

To: Alexei Novudov, Moscow Investment Group.

From: Doctor Yuri Alexiyevich Popov, Khinggan Research Facility.

Alexei,

I understand the board's decision completely. Indeed, I am grateful to them for sponsoring us for so long. Please convey my thanks to them for their support. I only hope that their company can be returned to a condition in which they will be able to undertake such sponsorship in the future.

As for yourself, one way in which you could certainly help would be to take over management of the facility's investments. Having to do myself, from here, is proving most difficult. If you could do so there, I would be most grateful. And you will be compensated, of course; I do not expect anyone to work for free. Please let me know if you are able to assist me in this manner.

Regards,

Yuri.

JULY 17TH, 2058 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

Doctor Popov scowled at the report. Another failure. The newest batch of mutants were not viable, either. This time there were problems with their blood chemistry; half of them had already died of congestive heart failure.

If it was not one thing, it was another, it seemed. Well, no one said it would be easy …

The reports from Alexei were not the most encouraging either. His investments, while not wiped out, were severely depleted. Hopefully the promised economic recovery would prove true.

Ah well. Back to work.

JANUARY 12TH, 2063 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

"You're certain this will work?"  
"Yes, Yuri. We have been following a false trail. Relying on a single mutagenic virus is like trying to build a house with only a hammer; we need a complete set of tools for that. Our problem is similar. One virus can only accomplish so much. But a combination of viruses may be able to effect all the necessary changes. The difficulty will be getting the right combination. Not a trivial problem, of course."

Doctor Popov nodded assent. "It is clear, in any case, that our current method has not produced the desired results. Therefore we will proceed with your suggestion. Good work, Vladimir."  
"Thank you, sir. We will begin at once."

APRIL 3RD, 2065 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

Doctor Popov smiled, for the first time in months. Finally a success; the current batch of modified humans were viable. Whether they were a step in the right direction remained to be seen, but at least they were not a failure.

The Chinese, who were now ruling Mongolia, seemed either unaware of his facility, or did not care enough to even visit. Good; the less they interfered, the better. In truth they were probably distracted by their current troubles with the Americans; no matter. That was not his concern.

DECEMBER 5TH, 2070 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

"Congratulations, Doctor."  
"Thank you, Vladimir. It seems we have finally made real progress. Your viral mix, applied to newly formed embryos, produces viable modified humans. Even if we have not reached my lofty goal we have made more progress than I would ever have believed possible."  
"It was due more to your inspiration and guidance, Yuri, as we both know. But you are right; I would not have believed it possible ten years ago. Yet here we are."

"Indeed. Now to the matter at hand. I would like you to take over the leadership of the research team. Spare me your protests; you are ready and more than capable."  
"Very well. It is that serious?"  
"Apparently so. Doctor Simonov tells me that if I do not get more rest I will be dead in six months, and I would not wish to prove him right. So I am having you shoulder the burden. I will still take care of administration, and review progress and make suggestions from time to time, of course."  
"Of course. Take care of yourself, Yuri; we would hate to lose you when you are so close to achieving your goal."  
"I will. Enough chat; we both have work to do."

AUGUST 20TH, 2072 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

"Is this true, Doctor?"  
"Yes, Vladimir. It happened sometime last night, apparently, while he was asleep."  
Vladimir paused, then bowed; a gesture of respect for a fallen comrade. "I had hoped that he would be here to see the fruits of his labors, but apparently that was not to be. At least he did not suffer."  
"Yes. When will you hold the funeral?"  
"Tomorrow. I think we will take the day off; the others can probably use the rest."  
"Good. Shall I announce it?"  
"Yes; I have too much to do already. Thank you, Pyotr."

AUGUST 21ST, 2072 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

Doctor Yuri Alexiyevich Popov was laid to rest in a simple grave on the grounds of the facility. Everyone turned out for the funeral, of course; even the modified humans were there. The oldest of them was now seven years old; she was nearly five feet tall. It appeared that an unforeseen effect of the modifications was to speed up maturation; by his estimate they would reach adulthood, at least physically, by age fifteen.

They made an interesting grouping; for their age they were tall, strong, and clear eyed. The only odd feature was the slight purple tinge to their skin; that alone would mark them as different from normal humans. Well, they were different. Not better, not worse, just different.

Vladimir Tukhanin mused a bit on that. The modified humans were every bit as intelligent as other children their age; they also showed the normal range of emotional responses for such children. Mentally, they were human. Physically, they were not. Here at the facility they were accepted, part of the family. But in the wider world? He had his doubts there. And considering the mutant revolts thirty years before, he was probably right to doubt that.

Ah well, they would cross that bridge when they got to it. He returned to listening to the music; it was good to finally be able to relax, at least for one day. Since he had taken charge of the facility last year he had been almost constantly busy; no wonder Doctor Popov had died of heart failure. With such a workload it was a wonder that he had lasted as long as he did. Vladimir smiled and shook his head. He would carry on the work, as he had promised.

JANUARY 17TH, 2077 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

Doctor Vladimir Tukhanin sighed and shook his head. In the five years since Doctor Popov's death they had made virtually no progress toward his goal of physically perfect humans. They had created more modified humans, using the already proven genomes, but no others had proven viable. It was frustrating, really.

Worse, the war had drawn all military forces out of the area. He had been forced to assign some of the personnel to security duties to keep the local bandits from raiding their supplies. If things got worse he might have to hire outside help to guard the place. He had already made inquiries and gotten a few favorable replies; one more bandit raid and he would make the call.

The good news was that the older modified humans were old enough to help out, which freed up some of his scarce workforce for other duties. Already they demonstrated remarkable stamina, outlasting all the normal children and most of the adults. He leaned back in his chair; there were nearly a hundred of them now. At the current rate of production he could increase their numbers by fifty or so each year; not enough. Gortchiev had said that they could, perhaps, double that if sufficient resources were available, which would help, but that was still insufficient. For a viable population they needed thousands of individuals; fewer would not give enough genetic variation for safety. He opened a notebook and began to write.

MAY 7TH, 2078 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

How much could change in a year's time. Doctor Tukhanin had been forced to cease all production of modified humans; with the destruction caused by the nuclear war all contact with Moscow had been lost and all supply deliveries had ceased. They were now alone here, all one thousand of them.

Fortunately they had been able to adapt. The local farmers and herdsmen had been persuaded to supply food and textiles in exchange for educational materials and medical care. Beyond that they were having to fill their own needs from their own resources.

He shook his head. He was a scientist, not a ruler. Yet here he was, saddled with his own little country, trying to make it self sufficient. Fortunately his people were resourceful; they had set up several workshops and were producing things like soap and alcohol for trade, along with simple tools and parts for their machinery. Incredible what could be done when your back was against the wall.

Even the mercenaries were helping out. Their commander had instituted patrols of the surrounding areas, protecting the locals and driving the bandits away from the vicinity.

He stated that to accomplish more he would have to recruit more men; given the current situation Doctor Tukhanin reminded him that they could not presently sustain a larger force. "If we can increase our output, then perhaps we can allocate some resources to increasing your force. But that is going to take some time."  
"Agreed. I have been making inquiries among the locals; we need to be able to replenish our ammunition and other supplies. If I can locate a source for such it would help matters greatly."  
"Yes, it would. We could produce our own if we can obtain sufficient raw materials. That would not only keep your force supplied, it would give us a valuable commodity to trade. By all means see what you can do in that line; I'll spare you whatever I can to help."  
"Thank you, Doctor. I'll do what I can."

JUNE 10TH, 2080 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

Doctor Vladimir Tukhanin ran his hand through his iron gray hair. At sixty he was still acute, but the strain of running both the facility and the research program was beginning to take a toll. Already Doctor Simonov was lecturing him on the necessity of setting aside time for physical exercise and obtaining proper nutrition. How long before he began to fail? He shook his head and went back to work.

For a wonder his little community was actually thriving. He had extended his supervision to the surrounding area, and the increased security was encouraging settlement. More people meant more workers, which meant more food grown, more goods produced, more trade, and more resources available. Several communities of miners had sprung up, leading to trade in various metal ores. Smelters were being built. Perhaps they might even build a foundry; that would be most helpful.

The research was moving along slowly; no new modified humans had been produced, but the existing ones had proven all he could have hoped for. The oldest were even being employed in the laboratories, as cleaning and maintenance staff at the moment. They were every bit as intelligent as normal humans, and their physique was actually superior. When mature, in a year or two, the oldest would be well over two meters tall and mass nearly one hundred forty kilos. The only drawback was that they ate nearly three times as much as a normal human.

He smiled. The mercenary commander had expressed interest in recruiting some of them for his force. Perhaps that wish might be accommodated; they would certainly be imposing. And their impressive stamina would certainly be an asset. Yes, he would sound them out.

AUGUST 23RD, 2085 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

Doctor Tukhanin leaned back in his chair. The news from Manchuria was interesting, to say the least. The Japanese had sent troops into the region to safeguard their interests. In reality they needed to secure the raw materials on which their economy depended; a problem which he was intimately familiar with. As long as they did not encroach on his little country, no problem. Perhaps their presence would even be beneficial.

He had come to the conclusion that, although there had been no real progress in the research toward the goal of physically perfect humans, there had been some progress in making the current modified human genome viable. They had identified most of the possible variations; when they resumed production they could increase the variety sufficiently to ensure that no one disease or defect could wipe them all out.

And they would need to resume production at some point. A totally unforeseen problem had arisen; the modified humans were incapable of reproducing normally. They could have sexual relations, and could even be impregnated, but were incapable of carrying a fetus to term. Every conception was followed within two weeks by a miscarriage. He sympathized with them, of course; to lose a child was distressing. But in time they would come to accept the reality of the situation and adapt.

Hmm; when they resumed production the new modified humans would need to be cared for, and then … yes. Foster parenting. Of course. The old would teach the young. He smiled and began to write.

FEBRUARY 1ST, 2090 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

Doctor Tukhanin scowled. The Japanese were increasing their presence in the eastern portions of the Khinggan range; how long before they tried to exert control here? He had already resumed production of modified humans; the original hundred were now raising five hundred more. In time, there would be thousands.

A few were even serving in the mercenary units, where they were more than welcome. As soldiers they were formidable; able to absorb damage that would stop half a dozen men in their tracks and able to heal at an astonishing rate. The only problem was that human weapons were really too small for them; they had some difficulty maintaining them in working order.

He was encouraging enlistment, actually. With the Japanese encroaching they might well need an army. He put the report down and went on to the next item.

OCTOBER 15TH, 2095 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

The Japanese were apparently taking time off from annoying him to occupy eastern Siberia; good. Doctor Tukhanin had no doubt that they would resume their encroachment eventually, though. At least he would have time to prepare.

The modified humans were even helping to conduct some of the research now. That was also encouraging; eventually he and the other researchers would be unable to carry on and others would have to step in. If they were modified humans, that would be entirely acceptable. He smiled wryly at his reflection; what little hair he had left was completely white. Already he was leaving actual research to others; administration, or more properly governance, was quite enough to keep him occupied.

The modified humans numbered at least five thousand now. Most were still immature, but in a few years there would be enough adults to take care of any new arrivals. They had, as he had hoped, adapted to the reality of their situation; even though they could not bear children as normal humans could they could still adopt the new arrivals and care for them as though they were their own. If anyone still doubted their humanity, he had only to watch them teaching the children to cure him of that.

JULY 22ND, 2100 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

The recent annexation of Korea promised to be nothing but trouble for him now. With the removal of that obstacle to their progress the Japanese were sure to increase the pressure on his little country. Well, if you can't beat them … call on someone who can help. He had already made contact with the Chinese in Jin Wei and the Russians in Mongolia; both had promised aid. Who knows, they might even maintain their independence after all. Doctor Tukhanin smiled at that. Who would have thought that, eh? He had started as a junior assistant in an obscure laboratory in Omsk and wound up ruling his own little country in the middle of nowhere.

Now all that remained was to pick a suitable successor. One would be needed soon; at eighty years old he was nearing the end of his time. He had certainly earned a rest.

MARCH 12TH, 2102 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

To all citizens of the Khinggan Autonomous Area:

The recent death of Doctor Tukhanin from a cerebral hemorrhage has thrown the future of this community into doubt. We, the directors, have therefore decided to open negotiations with the Japanese government with the intent of peacefully incorporating our community into the Japanese Empire. In view of recent troubles this appears to be our best option. We thank all members of our community for their efforts and request their cooperation in the difficult times to come.

Thank you,

The Directors.

MARCH 15TH, 2102 - KHINGGAN RESEARCH FACILITY

"So they intend to go forward with it?"  
"Unfortunately, yes. Given the Japanese attitude toward non-Japanese, that would be disastrous for us. We have no real choice; we must proceed with our plan. Is everything ready?"  
"Yes, Sonya. All units are in place; we are ready and waiting. When do you wish to start?"  
"Tonight, at three AM; the humans will be at their groggiest then. Remember, as little violence as possible; we do not want them to hate us afterward."  
"Understood. I will alert the others. Good night, Sonya, and good luck."  
"Thank you, Sasha; we'll need it."

Georgi Pavlov was awakened from a sound sleep by gunshots. At least it sounded like gunshots; he could not really be sure. He looked out the window. Armed mutants stood guard at the door; others marched swiftly by. He threw on his clothes and went to the barracks door.  
"What's going on?"  
"Just quelling a small disturbance, sir. Nothing to worry about; you can go back to sleep."  
"I heard gunshots."  
"Yes, a few shots were fired. That's stopped now; everything is under control. Please go back inside and go back to sleep."  
The guard's tone made it clear that it was a command rather than a request. Georgi went back in and made his way to the common room, where several others had gathered. They had tea ready; a lively discussion, long on wild rumor and short on facts, was in progress. They spent the rest of the night there.

"Well done, gentlemen. Six hours total and less than three hundred casualties. The first stage is complete."  
"Yes. The military units, administration apparatus, and research and production facilities are firmly under our control. Most outlying facilities will be ours within the day."  
"And the directors?"  
"Are waiting under guard in the conference room. I assume you wish to speak to them."  
"Not really, but we need their cooperation, or at least acquiescence. I will speak to them."

The directors did not appear receptive. No matter; any that refused to cooperate would be removed; permanently if need be. She looked evenly at them. "Gentlemen, as most of you know I am Sonya Arkady. I am the chairperson of the governing council of the Khinggan Autonomous Area, as of this moment. Any of you who are not willing to accept this change will be permitted to leave the Autonomous Area as soon as it is safe to do so. That should be in no more than two days."

"As concerns the change in government, that is not open to discussion. Your decision to seek incorporation in the Japanese Empire would have reduced us to serfs or slaves, given the Japanese attitude to foreigners. We could not permit that; we will not permit it. We are, and will remain, independent. That this will be difficult to sustain is clear; any assistance you gentlemen choose to render will be greatly appreciated."

"As some of you are no doubt aware by now, we have been engaged in the clandestine production of new metahumans, as we prefer to be called, for some time now. If you were thinking of resisting this change you should be aware that our numbers are much larger than the amount shown in the official reports. We also have been training and equipping our own military units; how effective they are you may judge from results."

"For the moment we will retain a monopoly of military force along with control of most government functions, including foreign policy. The Japanese will be told that we have decided against incorporation, preferring to remain independent for the time being. Hopefully they will accept that; if not we will deal with them in due time."

"As to your status, and that of the remaining humans in the Autonomous Area, you will lose any governmental authority, including the right to vote in our elections. That is temporary, until we are able to determine who we can and cannot trust. Otherwise your persons and property will be respected and you will be allowed to continue with your chosen occupations."

"I'm told you massacred the … human … soldiers. Is this true?"

"No. Some units did resist; casualties among them were unfortunately heavy. According to the latest estimate ninety seven people were killed and two hundred seventy injured in the course of events; those figures include both humans and metahumans. As for the survivors, they will be disarmed for the time being; again, when we determine which of them can be trusted those individuals will be allowed to resume their service."

"And just how many of you are there?"

"We prefer not to disclose that information; suffice it to say that there are enough of us for the task at hand. We will, of course, continue production; we must at least replace our losses, after all. We are mortal, just as you are."

"It seems we have no real choice."

"Correct. We would have preferred another outcome, but your decision forced our hand. Now we will all have to live with the consequences. And on that note, gentlemen, this meeting is concluded. The guards will escort you back to your quarters, where you will remain for the time being. Good night, and pleasant dreams."

MARCH 18TH, 2102 - KHINGGAN AUTONOMOUS AREA

"That's all, so far. Most communities have accepted the change; as long as we don't interfere in their livelihoods there shouldn't be any trouble. The remaining human mercenaries have refused to stay; we deported them this morning, along with their families and possessions. The majority of the directors and a small percentage of others went with them. The remaining humans, who we actually outnumber, have accepted the situation; some willingly, some grudgingly, but accepted."

"Disruption of activities has been minor. The expansion program is activated; by this time next year we should be making ten thousand new metahumans each month. The researchers are expanding the gene banks as much as possible, to increase variation to the extent that our genome can handle. The more variation, the more resilient we will be."  
"Good. Given that we have had the first few signs of aging among the population, what would you estimate our life expectancy to be?"  
"As a guess, fifty years on average. But that is only a guess; we have no data yet."  
"I know that, Sasha. But we have to plan for replacement of those who die, and having some idea of the expected death rate will be essential."

"One other piece of news; it seems your idea of a monument to the founders is being well received, by us and the humans alike. I have taken the liberty of soliciting designs; some are quite promising."  
"Good. You may choose which to implement; I would like to see them and give my input first, though."  
"Of course. Well, I'd better get back to work. Good night, Sonya."  
"Good night, Sasha."

Elder Ivan looked at Mikhail. "And that is how we came to be, and came to rule here, rather than be ruled."  
"So that is who the founders were. I had no idea; the statue just seemed to be two humans in lab coats bending over a table."  
"Those two humans, Doctor Yuri Alexiyevich Popov and Doctor Vladimir Tukhanin, were the ones responsible for our creation; without them we would not exist. It is proper that they be remembered for their work."

"Come with me a moment. I wish to show you something." They walked over to the administration building, to an open area in front of the entrance. "See that?"  
"Yes."  
"Read it, aloud."  
"In memory of the first chairperson, Elder Sonya Arkady, founder of the Khinggan Republic."  
"And now you know a little about her as well."  
"Yes. Why is there no monument to her?"  
"She did not wish there to be one. She even disapproved of this plaque, but we Oni can be stubborn at times. After her death it was placed here."

"That is enough for one day. Run along now; your parents will be waiting."  
"Yes, Elder. Will you be here tomorrow?"  
"Of course."  
"See you then. Goodbye, Elder Ivan."  
"Good night, Mikhail."

Ivan watched as he trotted off toward their home. Grushka, who had come up in the meantime, quietly clasped his hand. "Another one learns the history. Why do you enjoin secrecy?"  
"To ensure that they will treat it as important, so they will remember it and in time teach it to others as I do."  
"Ah." They walked off together, hand in hand.


	4. Chapter 4 The Lab

THE LAB

"Andrei, I may have something for you."  
"And that is?"  
"Look at this. It's a record of deathclaw sightings dating back a hundred years."  
"And why … ah. Of course. Yevgeni, get me a map of Mongolia. Let's see where these are."

"That must be it, then. Somewhere in there." Andrei pointed to the circle drawn on the map. "That's where they originated."  
Sergei looked dubious. "Assuming that to be true, so what? What do you expect to find there?"  
"We know the deathclaws must have been created, like us. There aren't any intermediates; no other living reptiles are even close to their genetic structure. So they must have been made in a lab. If we can find out where they came from maybe we can find something there that will help keep them in check."  
"Assuming we do find such a lab, how do we retrieve the information? Any computers will be inoperative; most of the data will be corrupted by now. I doubt they kept written records, not even back then."

Andrei looked at him intently. Sergei sighed. "Okay, when are we going?"  
"We?"  
"Of course. Somebody has to watch your back. Yevgeni?"  
"Yeah, count me in too. I'll get our stuff together."  
He tossed on his coat and left the building. Sergei shook his head. "I just know I'm going to regret this."

"So where are we now?"  
"Just northeast of our circle. If the information the locals gave us is correct our goal should be fifty klicks or so to the southwest. Now to find our guide." Andrei folded up the map and stuck it back in his pack. "His yurt should be just over that ridge."

A small group of yurts, with a couple dozen horses. A quick conversation with one of the herders pointed them at the correct one. "Wait here." Andrei entered the yurt. Sergei looked at Yevgeni and offered him a bottle; they shared out the last of the beer.

"So you want to go into the valley, to the ruins. I advise against it; there is only death there."  
"How so?"  
"The deathclaws are all around; even if you get in, how will you get out?"  
"Let me worry about that."  
The Mongol looked evenly at him. "You are not the first to try this, you know."  
Andrei stared at him in surprise. "Really. Who was before us?"  
"Two groups, actually; a group of Russian scientists fifty years ago and a Chinese expedition twenty years later. Neither made it out of there."  
"Do you know what happened to them?"  
"No; both were before my time. My father might have known, but he died two years ago. Sorry." He paused and looked at Andrei. "Do you still want to go?"  
"Yes."  
A moment of silence.  
"Then I, Temu, will guide you there. You are armed?"  
"Of course."  
"Good. You will need to be."

"How much further?"  
Temu looked at the map, comparing it to the terrain. "About five klicks west of here. We'll follow this creek into the valley; that should keep us out of sight for most of the way."  
Andrei nodded approval. "Good. We've been fortunate so far; only a couple of deathclaws, and nobody hurt. Our luck won't last forever, though."

They walked quietly, keeping careful watch. If a deathclaw appeared they would only have a couple of seconds to react; to be caught unawares was to die. Temu led them on, his own rifle ready. Then the gully began to open out; a last turn and they were in the valley. Temu pointed at a group of buildings on a small rise in the center. "There."  
Andrei smiled "Excellent. We'll camp here tonight. There may be traps or other defenses; I would rather tackle such in daylight."  
Temu smiled in turn. "You are not anxious to see what lies within?"  
"Of course. But it will still be there tomorrow."

"Well, any sign of them?"  
Sergei paused for a moment. "None in the valley right now, if that's what you mean." He handed the binoculars back and picked up his shotcannon. "Let's move before they decide to come take a look." They set off toward the ruins.

A half hour later they were on the edge of the ruins.  
"Any sign of activity?"  
"None. No prints of anything larger than a rabbit."  
"Good. That means the deathclaws aren't lairing here. Okay, let's start mapping. Temu, if you could clear out a spot in one of the outlying buildings for a campsite? Carefully; there may be booby traps or mines. If you spot any such clear out and get back to us; we'll handle it." Temu nodded, and went back to his pack.

They spent the next day going through the outlying buildings and mapping the layout of the site. Fortunately Andrei's fear of booby traps or mines proved unfounded; by nightfall they had a fairly accurate map. "It's clear the outlying buildings are all logistical; storage, quarters, workshops. There's no sign of any research being conducted in any of them."  
"So we need to look in the central buildings. That's where the research, administration, and, most importantly, records will be. We'll start that tomorrow. Good night, gentlemen."  
Yevgeni smiled at Sergei. "Why so glum? Everything's going well."  
"Too well; that's why." He sighed, closed his eyes, and lay back to sleep.

The next day was spent examining the inner ring of buildings. There they did find signs of deathclaws; claw marks on walls, doors, floors. And skeletons; animals of all kinds, even a couple of deathclaws. And human; at least two dozen human skeletons. From the debris they identified Chinese, Russians, and Mongolians.  
"That explains what became of those expeditions. Dead on the spot. So what killed them?"  
"Don't know. No bullet holes or broken bones, but lots of missing limbs and even heads. Deathclaws would be my guess."  
"Sure looks that way. But that doesn't make any sense."  
"Why not?"  
"Deathclaws are solitary or mated pairs; given how much they eat, they have to be. But one or two deathclaws wouldn't be able to kill that many all at once. The skeletons would be more spread out; a few would have made it to the outbuildings, maybe even out of the perimeter entirely. But none did."  
"Agreed. Multiple deathclaws. And they ambushed the humans; that's why the skeletons are together. They were taken by surprise, with no chance to spread out, take cover, or fight back."

"Intelligent deathclaws?" The look of horror on Yevgeni's face was unmistakable.  
Andrei nodded. "All the more reason for us to find out what we can here. If that nightmare proves true we, and all who live in the area, are in mortal danger."  
Temu spoke. "Not only those; all humans, and Oni too, are in danger if that is true. The gods grant that it be not so."  
"Indeed. And God help us if it is."  
Sleep did not come easily that night.

"No records of any kind in any of the buildings so far. They have to be in the central building."  
"So how do we get in? There doesn't seem to be any sort of surface entrance."  
Andrei gave a start. "Sergei, you're a genius. Of course. The entrance isn't here; it's elsewhere. Look in and around all the buildings; a trap door, sliding wall, sewer grate, anything leading underground."  
"A tunnel, eh?"  
"Precisely."

They spread out. After a few minutes Yevgeni gave a shout.  
"Find a way in?"  
"Maybe. Look at this area, at the way the ground is heaved up here and hollowed out there. Like there used to be a tunnel, but it's collapsed. Or been destroyed."  
"And there's a hollow in the ground leading to it. Good work. Let's get to digging."

It took them several hours of steady work, but eventually they broke through. It was a tunnel; it led parallel to the west wall of the central building as far as they could see. Judging from the damage it appeared to have been deliberately collapsed.  
"Now why would they do that?"  
"Good question. Was it done from inside, to prevent entry? Or from outside, to prevent escape?"  
"Grim either way. Unless there's another entrance we don't know about whoever was in there was trapped. Death by asphyxiation, thirst, or at best starvation. Unless they suicided first."  
"Cheerful thought. Enough speculation. Let's get some facts." They switched their lights on and headed into the tunnel.

After a hundred feet or so the tunnel curved in toward the central building, culminating in a huge sliding door. The door was easily thirty centimeters thick; the walls twice that. Clearly the building was built to withstand attack.  
"Good. That means the equipment is probably intact. If we can get enough of it running we'll be in business."  
"I have my doubts. It's been what, almost two hundred years? Not much will be working after that long."  
"Let's find out. Start with power; find some sort of generator. We can't do much without light."

Eventually they found their way to the reactor room.  
"Shut down. Sergei, can you get it going?"  
"Maybe. Give me a little time to look it over."  
"Do that. Yevgeni, let's see if there's some sort of backup. Temu, can you move our camp into the tunnel, please?"  
"Of course."

"A backup generator?"  
"Yes, but hooked up directly to the main reactor, not to the power grid."  
"Strange. Almost … as if it's intended as a starter. Just enough power to get the main reactor going if it shut down."  
"Just so. Now to check the fuel level." He found the dial and wiped it off. "Should be enough. Here goes nothing." The generator coughed and died.  
"Try it again." Same result.  
"Sounds like the plugs may be dirty. I'll pull them and have a look."

"Sergei, can you get it going?"  
"Yes, but I need power to do it. You find the backup?"  
"Yes, but it needs a little work first. Give Yevgeni an hour or so, then try it again."

"As I thought; dirty plugs. Those Russians needed to learn something about proper maintenance. Here goes." He tried it again; this time it coughed, then caught. In a few seconds it was running steadily. "A little rough, but it'll do." A moment later lights flickered on; emergency lighting. "That's better."

"Well, Sergei?"  
"Give me a couple hours. You have to follow the proper sequence or it won't work."  
"Just don't blow the place up, all right?"  
"Bastard."  
Andrei grinned. "I'll see if we can get some food in the meantime. Once you have it going come join us."

"Some more of your stir fry, Temu?"  
"Of course. That junk you brought would choke a pig."  
They laughed. He served up steaming bowls and they all pitched in. In the middle of the meal the tunnel lights came on.  
"Ah, he's got the main reactor running. Good. Now we'll get somewhere."

Sergei joined them. They had finished and were relaxing with their tea.  
"What was that?"  
"What?"  
"Movement, over there on the ridge."  
Yevgeni doused the fire as they switched off their lights. The valley was full of pairs of red eyes; dozens of them.  
"Damn! Grab the gear and get inside! Move!"

They pounded down the tunnel; roars behind them. They shot through the door and slammed the control lever down. The door majestically slid shut just as the first deathclaw reached it.  
A few minutes to catch their breath.

"Too close."  
"Yeah. What the hell just happened?"  
"Damfino. Just hope they don't get the door open."  
Temu looked scared; another first. "How much ammunition do we have?"  
"Not that much. We wouldn't make it out of the ruins, not with that many out there."  
"And if they get inside?"  
"We die."

"And now?"  
"We carry on with our plan. Now that we have power, let's see if we can find the main computers and get them running. Once we accomplish that we'll pull up their data and copy it. Hopefully we can find out what happened to the original researchers, the following expeditions, and even find some way to deal with that welcoming committee."  
"And if we can't find a way to dissuade them?"  
"Then I hope you like it here, because there's no way you can get past that many in one piece."  
Sergei shook his head. "I knew I was going to regret this."  
Andrei nodded. "We all may if we can't find what we need."

"The main computer is in here. It's already running; must have an autostart routine. Password protection is rudimentary; I should be able to get past it easily."  
Yevgeni nodded. "We found the research computers as well. Once you get this one going we can hook them up and see what data is still there."  
Andrei smiled. "Sergei says he's found the security offices; they seem to have extensive surveillance equipment."  
"Good. If we can get that running maybe we can get a look around. If some of the equipment is outside, and still functioning, we can even get a look at our new neighbors. See what they're up to."  
"Exactly. I sent Temu down below to see what supplies are available. Won't be any food, of course, but if there's fuel, weapons, or ammo it'll come in handy."  
Yevgeni looked thoughtful. "Explosives would be even better. And there might well be some, given that they probably used them to collapse the tunnel."  
"Right. Well, back to work."

"All right, we're in. Can you get the research computers on line?"  
"Give me a few minutes. Judging from the amount of dust, these things haven't been touched in at least twenty years. Let's hope the data's still intact."  
"Yes. Sergei has the security computer on line; he says there are actually working cameras, inside and outside. The deathclaws are still prowling around; there are at least a hundred of them. Fortunately they don't seem to be able to open the door, but there isn't another entrance that we can find. We're trapped here until we find a way to deal with them."  
"How's Temu making out?"  
"Great. Tons of supplies; tools, spare parts, weapons, ammunition, fuel, explosives, even medical supplies. Canned food, even; inedible by now, of course. Plenty of water; there's a twenty thousand liter tank in the basement. He's poking through the living quarters now. Sergei and I are going to the admin offices on the top floor next."  
"I'll join you there after I have these going. It'll take some time to copy the data; there's several terabytes at least."

"Andrei, look at this. Looks like the administrator's personal computer." Sergei switched it on. "It even works. Let's see what he had to say." He sat down and began to pull up information. "Hmm. Ah. Looks like his journal."  
"Good. That should be helpful. I'll go see how Yevgeni's doing, and have a look at the security cameras. Meet us in the cafeteria in half an hour; we'll have some dinner and discuss what we've found so far."  
Sergei nodded. "See you in half an hour."  
Yevgeni poked his head in. "All set. It's going to take a couple of hours to copy all that data, then several more to sift it for useful information. How are you doing?"  
Sergei smiled. "I've got the administrator's personal journal here. Should be interesting stuff."  
Andrei looked up. "Go ahead and get something to eat. We'll meet you there in a half hour or so."

Sergei stopped and leaned back in the chair. Andrei, who had been reading over his shoulder, looked at him and nodded. "That explains a lot, doesn't it?"  
"It certainly does. Poor fools. Well, let's go break the news to the others."  
"Yes. I hope Temu found something to drink; I need a stiff one after that."

As they ate Temu and Yevgeni described what they had found. "There are skeletons all through the living areas; at least three dozen. The original scientists, and both expeditions. Half of them have bullet holes in the skull; suicide or murder. Lots of weapons and equipment as well. Some of them left written records as well; journals or simple notes. Depressing stuff." Temu shook his head.

Yevgeni spoke. "I've got the first few years' records sorted out. It appears that these were not the first deathclaws made." Andrei and Sergei paused at that. "The original research was done by the Americans, in the former United States. A local lizard, known as the Jackson's gecko, was used for the basis. Their project succeeded all too well; when the bombs fell the lab was hit and in the confusion the deathclaws escaped. You can guess the rest."

"A few years prior to that one of their scientists was persuaded to supply the relevant data to a KGB agent in exchange for a large cash payment. That data made its way here and became the basis for this lab's research. However, only data was provided; no samples or specimens. So the researchers simply substituted indigenous reptiles for their starting point and went from there." He paused. "That's as far as I've gotten."

Andrei spoke next. "Sergei found the administrator's personal journal. It is most enlightening. I'll read you the relevant entries."

"June 24th, 2053. Comrade Grusov's data is most helpful. The Americans, as usual, have done much of the work for us. This should cut years off our schedule; that will please the bosses back home, I'm sure."

"July 3rd, 2055. We have succeeded. The new specimens are roughly four feet long, with all the necessary adaptations. Comrade Severov is most pleased, but requests they be enlarged further. I explained to him that it is a little more complex than simply inflating a balloon. We would be creating an entirely new species. He said he understood that and told me to carry on."

"August 12th, 2056. One of the new specimens escaped last night. Worse, a local tribesman shot it when it attacked one of his yaks. We must find a way to prevent further occurrences of this type."

"October 17th, 2056. Krutchov may have developed a way to keep any escaped specimens in the immediate area. A subsonic transmitter, properly tuned, would, he claims, attract such animals to it. We shall see."

"November 27th, 2056. The new transmitter is in place and working perfectly. We tested it yesterday; one of the specimens was released and promptly ran off. The transmitter was switched on; within half an hour it was back sniffing at the main building. Kudos to Comrade Krutchov for his brilliant concept."

"January 9th, 2057. We have modified the transmitter to transmit continuously; this will free us from having to monitor it or switch it on and off. An alarm will sound if it ceases to function properly. This frees up personnel for other duties."

"September 10th, 2065. Comrade Severov's request is fulfilled. The specimens are fully ten feet long and stand six feet high at the shoulder. He would be pleased, were he still alive. On an unrelated note, the recent peace agreement leaves us in limbo. I know that we are technically within Chinese territory, but they do not seem interested in us. So much the better."

"February 2nd, 2066. With the opening of hostilities with America the Chinese have withdrawn all troops from the region. While this means they lack the means to interfere with us it also means that they cannot protect us either. We are on our own for the moment."

"June 30th, 2069. All attempts to domesticate the new specimens have failed utterly. They are implacably hostile to all other animals, including us. Several of the men have been severely injured and one was killed in the course of attempting to train them. I have terminated the program temporarily; perhaps our next specimens will prove more tractable."

"March 23rd, 2075. The newer specimens are even bigger; twelve feet long and seven feet tall. Unfortunately they seem even more intractable than their predecessors. I thought the conversion to warm blooded animals would help, but it seems to have only increased their appetites. So much for my idea."

"October 9th, 2075. The transmitter is properly tuned, at last. Not having it working cost us three men killed and ten injured, as well as a few local tribesmen and at least fifty of their herd animals. These creatures are incredibly dangerous."

"November 12th, 2077. My God; what have we done? The nuclear war has devastated the planet. We are cut off from direction. Moscow is gone, a smoking hole in the ground. What are we to do?"

"January 17th, 2078. The supply situation is critical. The specimens each require ten kilos of meat every day, and there are over a hundred of them now. And we have to eat, too. The local tribesmen do not have enough for their own needs; they cannot possibly support us as well. Our supplies will last another month, maybe two. After that?"

"March 12th, 2078. I have ordered the specimens destroyed tomorrow. We are out of supplies; the only things they could eat now would be each other, or us. Once that is done we will head southeast, toward China. If we stay here we will starve."

"March 13th, 2078. We are trapped. That madman Krutchov released the specimens last night. Half the men were killed before they could get into the main building. The rest are in no condition to travel, even if that were possible. The only saving grace is that Krutchov was among the first to die; a fitting reward for his folly."

"March 14th, 2078. Irony. We have trapped ourselves. The transmitter keeps the creatures from leaving the area; anyone who left the building would be killed before he went a hundred meters. Even if we shut it off it could take weeks for them to disperse sufficiently for us to get through them, and we do not have weeks. Our supplies will last for a few days, no more."

"March 17th, 2078. Mikhailov and his followers are going to attempt to escape tonight. I have given them all the remaining supplies. May God guide them to safety. We have shut off the main reactor and auxiliary power; the batteries will only last a few hours. With the transmitter off the creatures will disperse a little; perhaps enough for some of the men to reach safety. Perhaps."

"March 18th, 2078. This will be my last entry. Mikhailov and his men did not get past the outer buildings. The screams lasted only a few minutes, thank God. The batteries are failing; soon there will only be darkness here. The men have each taken their own way out; some by poison, some by pistol. I will follow them. May God have mercy on our souls."

Dead silence. The four of them looked at each other. After a few moments Sergei reached into his pack and retrieved a bottle; he poured a glass for each of them. They drank in silence.

Temu was the first to speak. "I think I may have something further to add to that." He searched through a pile of notebooks and extracted a small diary. "This belonged to the aforementioned Krutchov. If I might?"  
"Go ahead."

"September 15th, 2056. I believe I have found the proper mix of signals to produce the desired response in the specimens. Comrade Yertsin has approved the construction of a transmitter. The power requirement is immense; it will have to be powered directly from the main reactor."

"November 27th, 2056. The transmitter is working perfectly. Comrade Yertsin went so far as to compliment me on my success; another first. Now if we can find some way to domesticate them. I doubt that they are intelligent enough, but one never knows."

"January 12th, 2057. I voiced my unease to Comrade Yertsin, who as usual ignored me. The modifications made to the transmitter are unwise; now the only way to shut it off is to power down the main reactor. The power levels are such that it cannot even be safely disconnected while the reactor is running. Should anything go wrong …"

"October 8th, 2065. The new specimens are ready for production. Now to see if they can be trained. After our failure with the initial specimens I have my doubts; simply scaling them up is unlikely to help."

"July 8th, 2069. The new specimens are, if anything, less suitable than the originals. They are pathologically hostile to all other animals, including us. Their size precludes safe handling; several men were injured and Fyodor was killed while trying to train them. Comrade Yertsin has finally terminated the training program; for once I agree with him."

"April 7th, 2075. It appears that Comrade Yertsin's suggestion will be correct. The change to warm-blooded animals is helpful; the new specimens are much more robust. They also have a greatly increased appetite. Perhaps this can be used to help train them?"

"June 29th, 2075. I have reluctantly concluded that Comrade Yertsin is right once again. The new specimens are more intractable, if that were possible. We cannot even get close to them without being attacked and all attempts to communicate with or train them have been complete failures. Worse, there are now nearly a hundred of them. The strain on our resources is immense."

"November 14th, 2077. With the destruction of Moscow supply deliveries have stopped. Attempts to contact anyone outside the valley have failed. Even the local tribesmen do not know what the situation is. We are utterly alone. How long before our supplies fail and we have to abandon the project on which we have spent our lives?"

"March 10th, 2078. I have informed Comrade Yertsin that we have only enough meat to supply the specimens for a few days. Our own food supplies are nearly exhausted as well. We must secure additional supplies; if we do not … No, I will not see my life's work abandoned. I will do something. What, I do not yet know."

"March 12th, 2078. My God. Comrade Yertsin has ordered the specimens destroyed. My life's work, destroyed on a whim. No; I cannot permit this. I will prevent it, though I may well die in the attempt. God forgive me; I must act."

Temu closed the diary. "That, of course, is the last entry."  
Sergei shook his head. "Madness."  
"Perhaps. Who are we to judge a man dead two hundred years? My people hold it unwise to speak ill of the dead. We do not wish to be slandered after we are gone, do we?"

Yevgeni nodded. "True enough. But that leaves us with quite a problem, doesn't it?"  
Sergei cradled his glass. "Indeed. If we open the door with the transmitter on they get in and we die. If we shut down the reactor to disable the transmitter we can't get the door open and we die. Damned if we do and damned if we don't."

Andrei looked thoughtful. "Perhaps not as bad as all that. There might be a way out of our difficulty." He took another swallow. "The proper mix of signals, he said."  
Yevgeni sat up. "Yes. If they can be attracted … then maybe they can be repelled. I'll see if I can find the relevant data."

Sergei looked at him. "We will need something like that, for sure. Come with me a moment. I want to show you something."

He took them to the security office. "Those cameras there" , pointing to a bank of monitors on the far wall, "view the outside of this building and out to two hundred meters or so." He manipulated the controls. "There." He pointed to one of the monitors. "This was about ninety minutes ago. That one, see? The one between the buildings?"  
"Yes. You sure this is right? No malfunctions?"  
"It shows on the other monitors, too, if that's what you mean. It's next to that doorway, right?"  
"Yes. If this is correct, that doorway is two meters tall, which makes that one … five meters tall?"  
"Yeah, that's what I come up with, too. There are a few others in the three to four meter range, but he's definitely the champ. I knew they kept growing throughout their lives, but didn't really believe it until now." He looked at Andrei. "What do you think it would take to bring him down?"  
"No idea. Let's hope we don't have to find out."  
"Amen to that."

Yevgeni shook his head. "It isn't that simple. The mix of frequencies used is at least a dozen. I don't know exactly because I haven't taken a look at the equipment yet; I've been busy going through the data looking for Comrade Krutchov's work with the transmitter. But, to answer your question, it won't be just a simple reversal of signals. The brain is a lot more complex than that."

Andrei smiled. "Well, I can help you out a little there. The transmitter actually puts out a mix of fifteen different frequencies at varied intervals; a sort of siren song, if you will. So it's even more complex than you suggested. However, if we can find out which frequencies stimulate which areas of the brain we can probably come up with something helpful."

"Perhaps some tests?"

"Just so. Sergei and I will play with the transmitter. We will have to keep transmitting the original signal at intervals as well, though. It wouldn't help our observations to have our test subjects out of sight of the cameras. Ironic, I know; we need to keep transmitting the very signal that keeps us trapped here." He shook his head. "I have Temu looking through the journals and computers in the basement and the living quarters; I want to know exactly what happened to the two expeditions and who collapsed the tunnel and why. Who knows; maybe he'll find out something useful or even vital."

Temu spoke carefully and quietly. "The Russian expedition came to grief in roughly the same manner we did; they entered and powered up the main reactor. When the deathclaws appeared half of them were caught outside; they stood no chance, with the deathclaws coming from every direction at once. The remainder were trapped in here, as we are. Eventually they either suicided or starved to death. Horrible, either way." He shuddered.

"The Chinese expedition fared even worse. They were all inside when the deathclaws appeared. By the time they worked up the nerve to leave they were desperate. They collapsed the tunnel on their way out, but didn't get much further than the outer buildings."

Andrei looked thoughtful. "Why did they collapse the tunnel?"

"It isn't clear. One writes of keeping the deathclaws out of the building, another of sealing it up forever. No matter. We know the outcome of that."

Yevgeni sighed. "Unfortunately it seems Krutchov's research focused solely on attraction. Although it does indicate which parts of the deathclaw brain were stimulated to achieve that, it does not really indicate anything else. How are you coming with your observations?"

Sergei scowled. "So far, no visible results. However, when we fiddle with the signals the deathclaws do not immediately disperse. So Comrade Yertsin's estimate of weeks to disperse them might even be conservative."

"So shutting off the reactor will not help. Just as well; we need the lights on to work anyway. Temu, please work with Sergei to watch the monitors while Yevgeni and I modify the transmitter outputs. Record any unusual behavior, no matter how trivial. No telling what will be helpful." Temu nodded assent. "Let's get back to work."

They kept at it for several days with no real results. All four were becoming increasingly frustrated. Then one day …

"What was that?" Sergei pointed at one of the monitors. "Let me rewind that." Temu watched intently as the scene replayed itself. "See how it snapped at its neighbor? Ever seen that before?"  
"No."  
Sergei got on the intercom. "I don't know what you did, but it produced a little aggressive behavior. Just annoyance, really, but it's the first difference we've noticed."

A few minutes' discussion, then Andrei got back on the line. "I'm an idiot. Of course the answer was staring me in the face all the time. Part of the signal had to be devoted to suppressing their aggressive instincts, at least toward each other. There's no other way they could be kept from destroying each other. Give us a few minutes to figure out exactly what settings we used then."

A few minutes later he got back on the line. "Absurdly simple, really. We just shut off three of the frequencies for a moment. And here we were looking at what to transmit; we never even thought about what not to transmit."

Sergei chuckled. "Well, let's work on that. If we can get them to fight each other, that will be perfect."  
"Indeed."

"You're sure?"  
"No, but I think we're close. We know which signals control their aggressive instincts now; if we can heighten their aggression we should be able to drive them into a killing frenzy. I think this combination should do it."  
Yevgeni nodded. "Okay, it's set. Now to see what results we're getting."

A whoop from the intercom announced their success. "That's it! That's perfect! They're slaughtering each other left and right! Look at them go!" Sergei was ecstatic; Andrei had to actually yell at him to get him to calm down enough for a rational conversation. "You should see it; it's a bloodbath out there. Bodies everywhere you look; the few survivors are still stalking each other. By the time they're through there won't be one left standing. I could kiss you."

"If you do I'll shoot you on the spot. But I'm glad to hear that it's working. We'll leave it on for the time being, just to make sure; there might have been one or two out of range and I want to be sure they're all gone."  
"Right. But we can finally leave this place. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Dinner that night was a jubilant affair. The feeling of relief was tangible; they had finally escaped the trap.

The next morning they stood at the mouth of the tunnel admiring the sunrise. "Beautiful, isn't it?"  
"Yes. I thought I'd never get to see one again. Let's get out of here, shall we? I cannot wait to sleep in my own bunk again."  
Temu smiled. "I too would like to be home; I have a wife and son I never thought to see again." They set off for the creek leading out of the valley.

"Sergei, what's wrong? You should be happy."  
Sergei shrugged. "I keep thinking we've missed something; something important." He shook his head.  
Andrei smiled at him, then froze. "Damn. The big one. Did anybody see the big one fall?"  
Sergei swore. "No. And if we didn't …"  
"It's not dead."  
Yevgeni blanched. "We did disable the transmitter; perhaps it wandered off."  
"Not far, I'll bet. Everybody stay sharp; that thing could be anywhere."

They had almost reached the first bend in the creek, the last point still in sight of the buildings. "Sergei! Behind you!" They spun around, weapons firing; too late.

Sergei was the first to fall; it tore his arm off, shotcannon and all. Andrei was next, his head severed from his body with a single swipe. It bore down on Yevgeni and Temu. Yevgeni yelled. "Run! Temu, run!" It was on Yevgeni in an instant; a blow knocked him against the wall of the ravine. He fell to the ground, stunned; his rifle disappeared. It turned on Temu.

Temu stood his ground. He had one of their autorifles in hand and was firing madly at it. It struck him with the force of a tank, knocking him flat. Yevgeni rushed it, firing his pistol as fast as he could; it turned toward him and took a couple of steps, then swayed and fell to the ground.

"Temu!" Yevgeni rushed over to him. Temu lay on his back, his chest covered in blood. "Hang on; I'll get you bandaged up. If I can get you back to your people …"  
"Too … too late … take … my body …"  
"Temu!" There was no answer; there never would be.

A lone Oni knelt by the side of a Mongolian herdsman, his head bowed in grief.

They lie together; the two Oni and their guide. The skull of an enormous deathclaw keeps watch over their graves; a fitting memorial. Legend among the tribes has it that any who disturb their rest are torn to pieces by a deathclaw which leaves no tracks.

Yevgeni spoke briefly to the family. Temu's rifle he gave to his son; his journal to his wife. The next day he set off for home.

He does not speak of it to any, yet somehow the tale is known. It is proper that it be told, that listeners be reminded of the dangers that may lurk in the world. There are things even an Oni should fear.

NOTE:

Shotcannon: a semi-automatic four gauge shotgun with a twelve round magazine, used by Oni as a close combat weapon.

Autorifle: The standard Oni 15mm assault rifle, with a thirty round magazine.

Oni weapons are not subtle; others rightly fear them for the terrible wounds they can inflict.


	5. Chapter 5 Two Pair

TWO PAIR

"I swear, if you don't quit your whining I'll hamstring you and leave you for the rats. Just get on with it, all right?"  
"You think it's easy, breaking into these things? You try it."  
"If it were easy it would already have been done. I know that as well as you." Jin shook his head. Liu was a good safecracker, but sometimes … He shifted his rifle to his left hand and took another swig from his canteen. If the damn rats would just leave them alone for five minutes …

"Shit." He dropped the canteen and crouched. "Liu, I think we've got company." He peered around the corner.  
"Just a second … got it." Liu turned the handle and pulled the door open. "Damn. A few baubles, some paper money." In that moment he looked up into the barrel of a rifle. "Jin?"  
A voice in strangely accented Chinese. "No sudden moves, please. Just hand over your weapons and come with us."

Liu turned to see Jin standing with hands raised between two Japanese soldiers. The one pointing the rifle at Liu reached out and relieved him of his pistol. Liu stood up, hands in the air. The soldiers marched them off.

"Well met. I am Colonel Hyachi Itsurugi. You two have quite a reputation, you know. Tracking you down has been most difficult."  
"Well, now you have us. Now what?"  
"Why do you think I brought you here?"  
"No idea."

The Colonel scowled at him. "Do not play the fool with me. You know very well that I want something from you, otherwise you would be dead or in prison. And you will want something from me, in turn. Besides your lives and your freedom, that is."  
Jin nodded. "And what could we offer you that you could not obtain with your existing resources?"  
"Your skills, of course. You are an experienced scout and an excellent shot. Your partner is probably the best safecracker in Manchuria; he's also very good at bypassing security measures, I'm told. For what I have in mind you will be perfect."  
"And what exactly do you have in mind?"  
"Come into the conference room with me and I will show you." They went into the room; a large table nearly filled it. The table was covered with maps and documents; the Colonel cleared off a space in the middle and dragged a large map into the center. Jin and Liu leaned over for a better look.

"Harbin."  
"Yes. The city center, of course, is nothing more than a rubble-filled crater. The radiation levels are far too high for anyone to enter it safely. But the rest of the city, while still too irradiated for safe occupation, can be traveled through. And this site" pointing to a cluster of large buildings "is of particular interest."  
"That's the Norinco plant, isn't it?"  
"That is part of it, yes. There is also a former Red Chinese army arsenal on the grounds. I want you to enter it and report to me on what you find there."  
Liu raised an eyebrow. "Just a report? That's all?"

"For the moment, yes. I should make it clear that you will be recording radiation levels as you go; I will provide the necessary equipment for that. It is automatic, so you need not concern yourselves with operating it. It will also warn you if the levels become dangerously high."  
Jin nodded again. "Any other information on the area?"  
"Only the documents on this table. Feel free to read through them; I will have food and drink brought in while you do so." He signaled to an aide standing by the door; the aide bowed and left. "I recommend an approach through the service tunnels; the radiation levels are less there, I'm told."

"And if we find … items of interest?"  
"Within reason, you may keep what you find; that will be part of your compensation. Bear in mind that you will have to carry everything out yourselves, so do not get overly greedy."  
Liu nodded. "Better to escape with a pocket watch than to be caught with the grandfather clock."  
The Colonel chuckled. "Just so."

"Any additional equipment you require will be supplied. Again, you will have to carry it there and back, so do not ask for the moon."  
Jin nodded again. "Agreed, then. How long do we have to prepare?"  
"Will a day be sufficient?"  
Liu thought for a moment, then looked at Jin. A curt nod. "Yes." He picked up a handful of pencils and a notebook, opened it, and set to work.

Jin leaned back in his chair, cradling his tea. "If the maps are accurate it should be passable. If not, we'll have to improvise."  
"Yes. I don't foresee too much difficulty with security; it was a peripheral installation, not one of their headquarters, so it won't have their latest measures in place. Alarms, a few turrets maybe; nothing major."  
Jin looked at him. "Don't be so sure. They may have something special set up; little surprises for the unwary."  
"Don't worry; I'm well aware of the risks. We'll do it by the book, as always."

"Good. I gave him the list of stuff we need; nothing major. First aid kits, a shotgun apiece, extra ammo, three days' rations, extra water bottles. A complete toolkit for you. Spare flashlights, with lots of extra batteries. Shovels, pry bars, and a sledge hammer; I'll carry that. Did I miss anything?"  
"Nothing important. The Colonel added a few items as well; cleaning kits for the weapons, a detachable scope for your rifle, and a handful of grenades of various types. And fighting knives; good quality steel in those."  
"Let's hope we don't need them, except as tools."  
"Right."

"Then let's get some sleep. We should start tomorrow morning; I want to be at the sewer entrance before nightfall."  
Liu tossed his tea off and stood. "Agreed. See you tomorrow."

The soldiers escorting them were clearly experienced veterans. The few encounters with rats or other interlopers on the way were handled quickly and efficiently. By late afternoon they were at the entrance. "This is where we part company. The radiation levels are already higher than we humans can stand for long; only ghouls like you can survive here. Good luck to you both."  
"Thanks; I'm sure we'll need it. See you here tomorrow night, God willing."  
"We'll be here. Hopefully you will also."  
"Well, let's get moving." He and Liu switched on their flashlights and gingerly crept into the tunnel. The soldiers waited until they were out of sight, then turned for home. The pair were on their way.

At first the going was fairly easy. This was one of the main storm sewers; although it definitely showed the effects of two hundred years of neglect it was still passable. The few rats were easily dealt with; the radiation levels were bearable, if higher than they would like.  
"What's that?" They switched off their lights.  
"Don't know. Looked like … a human? Here?"  
"Feral. That's what I was afraid of. Hope there aren't too many of them."  
Liu sighed. "I knew it wouldn't be that easy." They crept forward.

A roar announced their discovery. The first feral was blasted off his feet by two shotguns firing at once, then the rest charged in. The tunnel was filled with roars and gunfire.

Eventually it grew quiet again. Jin bandaged his arm while Liu reloaded, ignoring the blood running down his cheek.  
"Hold still; there."  
"Thanks. That was hairy."  
"Yeah. Now you know why the shotguns."  
"Damn straight. No time to aim, and no little pistol will stop them. Good call."

Jin nodded. "Yeah. The junction should be up ahead; we go left from there. Let's get moving before more show up."  
"Amen to that." Liu followed him up the tunnel, shotgun ready.

The cross tunnel was in slightly worse shape; they had to dig a path through in a couple of spots. No more ferals, for the moment; only a few rats. "The next junction should be up ahead. We take a right, then look for a service door on the west wall. That should put us into the sewers under the plant. There should be a way into the basement of the armory from there. I hope."  
Liu looked at him. "And if not we'll have to find some other way in. The map has been dead on so far, though."

"Ah, here we go. Down this tunnel a little way; look for a door on the left hand wall." They had taken no more than a few steps when they saw light ahead. "What the hell?" They switched their lights off and edged closer.

Two figures, standing by a security door in the west wall. One working on the door with a portable terminal, the other keeping watch with an assault rifle. The second one turned toward them. "All right, I know you're there. Come on over here. Unless you're looking for a fight?"

Jin looked at Liu and shrugged. "Let's hear what he has to say."  
"Okay by me." They straightened and walked over to him.

Two ghouls, dressed in Chinese fatigues. "Good evening. I'm Deng; this is Shou. You are?"  
"I'm Jin; he's Liu. What brings you here?"  
"Probably the same fool's errand you're on. Breaking into the armory, right?"  
Jin nodded, yes.  
"Thought so. Once my friend has the security disabled we'll have a go at the lock."

Liu smiled. "I can give you a hand with that."  
Deng looked at him. "I thought I recognized that name. No doubt you can."  
Shou looked up. "That's it. You can open it now." Liu nodded and set to work. A couple minutes later he had it open. "Carefully; there are probably turrets or other defenses."

Deng nodded. "You first." Jin shrugged; he had his rifle in hand, with the scope in place.

Sure enough, around the first bend. "Turret, about twenty feet ahead. Pointed the other way, though." Jin leaned around the corner. Two loud booms and the sound of circuits shorting out announced success.

Around the next turn the corridor ended in another door. "Doesn't seemed to be alarmed, or locked." Liu tried the handle; it opened into a large square room. Against the walls were metal shelf units covered with all manner of odd parts and bits of metal, most of which they could not even begin to identify. Several cabinets held dozens of tools of all kinds. The center of the room held several worktables covered with various assemblies, parts, and more tools.

Against the far wall was a set of metal stairs leading up around the perimeter of the room. They shone their lights up; the ceiling was at least forty feet high. Just under it was a walkway encircling the room. "Impressive. Wonder why they didn't make more use of the space?"  
"No idea. Certainly plenty of room for extra platforms and walkways. Odd."  
They made their way up the stairs. In the middle of the ceiling was a large metal hatchway. "Wonder where that goes?"  
"Yeah. No way we'll find out without breaking our necks. Where's the door? Ah yes, over there."

Another few minutes to bypass the security and pick the lock. The corridor ahead was lit with red emergency lighting. "So the main reactor is still going after all this time. They built them well, didn't they?"  
"Yes, they did. I think we're under the main building now. By the way, exactly why are you here?"  
"Information. And you?"  
"The same. Which means we should look for the main computer, which should be on this level or the next one down."  
"Lead on."

A few more twists and turns brought them to a large hallway paralleling the sewers below. Deng peered at the signs. "Left to the computer room, right to main storage. Let's get what we came for first. Then we can hunt for souvenirs."  
Jin grinned. "Right."

A couple of minutes brought them to the door. "Hmm. This one's a little more complex."  
Liu bent over Shou's shoulder while he typed on the terminal. "Try that one; it fits the pattern."  
"No, it didn't like that. How about that one?"  
A couple minutes later they had it.

The door slid open. Beyond was a large area filled with all manner of computer equipment busily humming away; the walls and ceiling were covered with wiring. Huge power cables led down through the floor to the reactor below. "Odd. Why so much in such an out of the way place?"  
"No idea. But you're right; it's much more than a simple arsenal would need. Let's find out what they were up to."  
Shou sat down at the main terminal; Liu took a seat at one of the secondaries. About fifteen minutes later Shou nodded. "Finally. Damn, that was tough. Not even the institute had security that tight."  
Liu nodded. "Best I've ever seen, that's for sure. Now to see what they were protecting."

They began copying files. Then they stopped and looked at each other. "Damn. So that's what they were doing. No wonder they protected it."  
"Yes. And if they're still there?"  
Liu whistled through his teeth. "Let's find out."

"You want to fill us in?" Deng and Jin looked at them.  
Shou leaned back in the chair. "That main storage we didn't go into? It was used to store atomic weapons. Yes, right here in the city. Apparently they were assembled in the Norinco plant, then stored here until needed elsewhere."

Silence.

"Well, let's find out."

They trooped out and down the hallway. Another few minutes, then the door slid open.

The area beyond was vast; they stood on a platform overlooking it. As far as they could see were racks and racks of all manner of weapons and thousands of crates of supplies and ammunition. But in the center was the matter of interest. On stands, lined up in rows, were atomic bombs. Dozens of them.

"Damn."  
"Yeah. That explains why they were so anxious to find out about this place."  
"It does indeed." They looked at each other. "Now what?"  
"Good question. Let's at least get a count."  
Deng shrugged. "Fine by me." They trooped down to the floor.

"I make it an even hundred."  
"Agreed. Half twenty kiloton, half fifty kiloton."  
"Yes." Jin shook his head. "And they know, or at least suspect. That's why the interest in this place."  
"True. Which leaves us with a problem, doesn't it? We know too much."

"Indeed we do. But we have a larger problem as well; if they get their hands on them …" They looked at each other. Finally Deng turned to Jin. "Well, there is one way to solve that problem. And we certainly have the means; there has to be at least a thousand tons of explosives in here."  
"You're kidding, right? There's no way we'd make it out of here in time."  
"I can set a delay, assuming we find the proper equipment."  
Jin looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Let's get to work."

They spent the next few hours piling explosives around the bombs, inserting detonators, and running wires to a central point. Deng triumphantly appeared with a satchel and began to hook up the equipment. "Not yet; the battery comes last, after everything else is set. No unfortunate accidents that way."  
Jin nodded. "And if they're not destroyed?"  
"No matter; as long as they're sufficiently damaged. And this will be more than enough."

"Can we detonate it by radio?"  
"Not down here; too much stuff in the way. I've set the timer for two hours; that should give us plenty of time to get out of here. I won't actually start it until we're ready to leave." Deng stood up. "Well, all set. Grab anything you'd like to take with you; we won't be coming back here." They spread out, checking out various weapons and equipment, picking this and that, like small children turned loose in an enormous toy store.

Eventually they gathered back by the entrance. "All set?"  
"Yes."  
"Good." Deng reached down and flipped a switch. "Time to go." They trotted back up the stairs and down the hallways.

"What the hell?" Gunfire, coming from ahead of them. As they got closer they could hear roars over the gunfire. "Ferals. Damn."  
"Yeah. But who's shooting at them?"  
"Good question. Let's find out." They switched off their lights and edged forward.

"I'll be damned. So that's what that hatch was for." They watched as a huge turret sprayed the ferals below with machine gun fire, as one would wash away dirt with a hose.  
"Yeah. Now how do we get past that?"  
"Good question. I wonder if it can be persuaded not to shoot at us."  
That question was almost instantly answered as the turret's sensors swung it around to face them, sending them diving for cover as bullets zinged past them down the hallway.

Shou shook his head from where he was looking at a wall terminal. "The whole system's on alert. The security doors are shut and locked; all the turrets are armed and ready to repel intruders, which unfortunately includes us."  
"Meaning we can't go back and disarm the explosives."  
"Right; the turrets in there would gun us down in seconds, even if we did get the door open. We have to get past this thing somehow and then get the sewer door open. Then all we have to do is get far enough away before the place goes up in smoke. Nothing to it, really."

Jin looked at Deng. "Suggestions?"  
"Hmm. If we distract it, can you disable it?"  
"Maybe. Worth a try."  
"Good." They took a moment to prepare.  
"Ready?"  
"Now."  
Deng stuck his pole out; it was promptly shot out of his hands. In the same moment Jin fired. More bullets down the hallway. Jin fired again and was rewarded with the sound of glass shattering. Yet more bullets as all dived for cover.

"Anyone hurt?"  
"Yeah. Got me in the leg; nothing serious, though." Liu bandaged up Jin's leg.  
Deng nodded "Shot out the targeting lens. Good; maybe I can finish the job."  
"Careful; there are still other sensors. It won't be accurate, but it might get lucky."  
"I know. Your turn to distract it."  
"Ready."  
"Now." Jin waved the pole; more bullets. In that moment Deng fired. The rocket struck the turret squarely; when the smoke cleared it fired a few more times, then abruptly stopped.

"You hit?"  
"Yeah. Lucky bastard." They took a minute to bandage Deng's shoulder. Jin took a look through his scope.  
"You blew away the ammo feed. Good work. Now let's get out of here before anything else shows up." They scrambled out into the room and down the stairs.

"What now?"  
"Damn; it won't accept anything. We can't get this damn door open."  
Deng smiled. "Oh, yes we can. Give me a couple minutes." He arranged his charges, then set the fuse. "Back into the room and away from the door."

A tremendous explosion; the room instantly filled with smoke. "That sounded right. Now let's get out of here." They trotted back to the sewer door; it was blasted off its hinges. A couple minutes with the pry bars and sledge hammer were sufficient to open it; they scrambled out.

They stopped and looked at each other. "This is where we came in, I think. A pleasure working with you gentlemen."  
Deng extended his hand; Jin shook it. "Indeed. Good luck to you both."  
"And to you. Now let's get out of here before the whole place collapses on us."

Jin and Liu set off the way they came. Deng watched for a moment, then he and Shou left as well.

They had almost made it back to the sewer entrance when it went off. It felt like an earthquake; debris rained down on them and the tunnel filled with dust. Coughing and wiping dust from their eyes, they stumbled out into the arms of the soldiers.

The Colonel was beside himself. "You were to report, nothing more. What possessed you to do that?"  
Jin stood his ground. "Better that no one have them than to have them fall into the wrong hands. We have seen the results of that already."  
"Who are you to judge ours to be the wrong hands?"  
"Does it matter? The thing is done. As for what's left, it's probably too irradiated after that for even ghouls to enter. So I wouldn't worry too much about any others getting their hands on anything either."  
The Colonel stopped and took a deep breath.  
"Take them away." The guards escorted them out.

After they left his aide looked thoughtfully at him. "He's right, you know. This probably is the best possible outcome."  
The Colonel looked evenly at him. "I know. But it wouldn't do to let them think they can get away with flouting my authority. Let them sweat a bit, then turn them loose with a warning to leave the area."  
The aide nodded and left.

Liu looked at him. "So, hanging or firing squad?"  
"No idea. As mad as he was, no telling what he'll do. Just have to wait and see." Jin leaned back on his bunk. "As for me, I'm going to get some sleep. It's been one hell of a day."

The next morning they were awakened by a stern officer and a complement of guards. "Get dressed and come with me." They looked at each other, shrugged, and did so.

The officer escorted them to a guard room near the exit. "Your belongings are in that locker." They retrieved their equipment. He escorted them to the exit and handed them a small case. "Your agreed payment. You are now free to go; I suggest you take your business elsewhere. The Colonel is not a forgiving man; if he encounters you again it will not be pleasant for you."  
"Thanks for the advice."

They walked off down the street. "First a drink and a meal, then a shower and some more sleep."  
"Sounds like a plan. And after that?"  
"I've got a cousin in Mukden; it's time I paid him a visit. Then I might see if we can find the other two; we would make quite a team."  
"That we would. That we would."

They turned into an alley and disappeared from sight.

NOTE: Oriental ghouls, like western ones, are the result of prolonged exposure to high amounts of radiation. Unlike western ghouls, Oriental ghouls do not lose their skin; instead it becomes tough and leathery, not unlike rhinoceros hide. It can also become discolored, with yellow, orange, purple, or brick red patches. Normal humans find such skin coloration distasteful; to them it looks diseased.

Also unlike western ghouls, Oriental ghouls are not healed by radiation. They are much more resistant to it than normal humans, but high levels will harm them.

Finally, feral Oriental ghouls will attack other ghouls, although they will not eat them.


	6. Chapter 6 Breadcrumbs

BREADCRUMBS

"Good evening, Victor."  
"And good evening to you, Min Ko. What brings you here at this hour?"  
"I have a small request to make of you."  
"None of your requests are small. So what can I do for you this time?"

"Tell me what the Oni are up to in Daqing."  
"Many things, no doubt. What specifically has piqued your interest?"  
"It is rumored that they are rebuilding the refinery. I wish to ascertain whether that is so."  
"Ah, that is a small matter. The answer is no. They are, in fact, dismantling it and shipping it west."

"West to where? Why?"  
"Ah, that is the question, isn't it? At the moment I do not know."  
"But you will find out."  
"Of course. I remind you that you have yet to get an answer you like."  
"When I want that I will talk to a bartender. You are paid to give me correct answers, not pleasant ones."  
"As we both know. I will contact you when I have one."

Victor looked thoughtfully at the man seated opposite him. "I know they are shipping it west. I wish to know exactly where it is going."  
"The Oni have not decided that yet, but they will put in somewhere in the oilfields in the northern Gobi."  
"I had not heard that they were still active."  
"At the moment they are not; they lack the means to transport the product."

"But not for long. The railroad is almost finished; once that is in operation they will be able to transport their oil products to where they are needed."  
"Have they made arrangements to sell such products?"  
"Not yet."  
"Then they intend them for their own use. The question becomes what use they will make of them."

"Petrochemicals, perhaps, but there is not much of a market for those. Fuel, but what would they need the fuel for?"  
"Not power; their plants burn coal, and they have plenty of that. Vehicles, maybe, but I had not heard they had such. They do not produce their own; could they acquire them elsewhere?"  
"They could. The Russians certainly have such and would sell them, if the price was right."  
"The Oni can meet their price, no doubt. And they will. So, oil products from the Gobi and vehicles from Russia."

"That would be logical, yes. And the Oni are nothing if not logical. What sort of vehicles? And for what use?"  
"That is the question, isn't it? Time for a chat with our Russian friends."

"So they are not buying existing vehicles."  
"No. Civilian vehicles are too cramped for Oni; military vehicles are even worse. No Oni would even fit in one. No, they are commissioning their own designs."  
"Designs, plural."  
"Yes. The first is an all-terrain heavy transport vehicle of about five tons total mass, with a capacity of five tons and a range of three hundred klicks or so."  
"For civilian or military use?"  
"Both, probably. Logistical support for their military; freight hauling for their industry."

"And the others?"  
"Just one other; a heavy-lift helicopter, probably an adaptation of some existing design."  
"Definitely military, then."  
"Not necessarily. Some will probably be used for industry, to transport to and from locations not accessible by ground transport. But the majority will probably be used by the military, yes."

"Any idea how many?"  
"Not at present. They're still designing them, remember. As a guess, a few hundred ground vehicles and a few dozen helicopters."  
Victor looked puzzled at that. "That would require, what, a few thousand liters of fuel per day?"  
"About fifty thousand, give or take."  
"That is only a small fraction of what they could produce. Where is the rest going?"

"Could they be selling it?"  
"I have not seen any signs of that."  
"Petrochemicals."  
"But there is no market for that."

"There you are wrong, my friend. There is a vast market for one particular type of product."  
"And that is?"  
"Fertilizer. Before the war the second largest market for petroleum products, after motor fuels."  
Victor set down his cup. "Fertilizer … yes, of course. But where would they make it? They have no facility for that … or do they?"

"Wasn't there such a facility in Daqing?"  
"I do not know. But I will certainly find out."

"Good evening, Min Ko."  
"Good evening, Victor. I assume you have an answer for me."  
"Indeed I do. You had best take a seat; this will take some little time."  
"That bad, eh?" Min Ko lowered himself into the chair opposite Victor, then reached out and raised his teacup. "Go ahead."

"Your refinery is being reassembled in Ginjou, in the northern Gobi. Their new railroad terminates near there, which gives them the means to transport the products. However, that is not the only thing being moved from Daqing."  
"And the other is?"  
"A petrochemical plant. Once in place they will begin production of chemical fertilizers."

"Interesting. How much?"  
"About five thousand tons per day. Sufficient for eighteen million hectares of farmland."  
"Impressive. But not sufficient to account for the total output of that refinery."

"True. The remainder will be motor fuels."  
"For sale?"  
"No. For domestic consumption."  
"And the vehicles which will consume it?"

"Are being designed and built in Uralsk. Two different ones, actually. An all-terrain, heavy transport vehicle of about five tons total weight, with a five ton capacity and a three hundred kilometer range, for both civilian and military use, and a heavy transport helicopter of about fifty tons total weight, ten tons capacity, and a five hundred kilometer range. Both are still in the design stage, so production figures are merely estimates, but roughly five hundred of the former and fifty of the latter."

"Helicopters … your track record is still perfect. I do not like that answer either."  
Victor smiled. "As I thought. Still, I am sure your employer will be able to adapt."  
"Yes. It will take some time for them to be designed and built, and still longer for the Oni to train pilots and ground crews for them. And then there is the matter of basing and supply. I do not foresee them being ready in much under a year."  
"Closer to two. However, I foresee the fertilizer being the greatest concern. The Oni, at the moment, have roughly one million hectares of farmland under cultivation. They could perhaps double that, if sufficient water could be found. They would have an enormous surplus of fertilizer in any case, and any number of customers eager to purchase it."

"Including us."  
"Yes. That will give them enormous influence in the region."  
"Yes; yes, it will. It remains to be seen how they will use it."  
"Indeed. I foresee interesting times ahead for all." Min Ko finished his tea and stood up. "Thank you, Victor. For both the tea and your answer."  
"You are most welcome. Until your next question, then. Take care, Min Ko."  
"And you, Victor." Min Ko donned his coat and let himself out. Victor sat for a moment and thought, then got up and put the tea things away. Interesting times indeed.


	7. Chapter 7 Fishing Trip

FISHING TRIP

The weather was perfect. Huang sat at the end of the pier, his line hanging limply from the end of his pole. The fish did not seem to be biting today; no matter. Just to enjoy the weather was sufficient reward. He had enough salted fish to last the winter already; this day's fishing was mainly for the pleasure of it. Soon the sun would sink behind the mountains and he would wend his way home to his family.

Two figures watched from the shore. "He is the one?"  
"Yes; he knows this lake better than anyone. He has lived here for as long as I can remember and fished it every day. If anyone can help you he can."  
"We shall see."

Huang was aware of them, of course. One does not spend one's life outdoors being oblivious to one's surroundings; such a person does not live long. But he knew that if they wanted something from him they would make that known in due time. He was content to wait until they were ready.

Sundown came and he reluctantly got to his feet. He reeled in his line, cleaned the hook, and secured it. Now a short walk back to his humble cottage, then dinner and bed. Or perhaps not. The figures had moved to where the pier joined the shore; so they wished to begin now. Interesting; one was an acquaintance, Jin Xiu; he lived a short distance away. The other was an Oni, a stranger.

"Good evening, Huang Lu-Tse. How was the fishing?"  
"And good evening to you, Jin Xiu. The fish were not interested in what I had to offer, unfortunately. And what may I do for you and your friend?"  
"My friend, Fyodor Chuchagov by name, wishes to make your acquaintance. He is interested in your knowledge of the lake; I have told him that you know it better than any other."  
"You exaggerate, as usual. But, as long as you are here, come along with me. No need for you to stand there cold and hungry while I feast. We can at least eat while we talk." They walked the short distance to his home.

Over a dinner of roasted fish, stir-fried vegetables, flatbread, and strong tea they discussed the matter. "My interest in the lake stems from some records dating from before the Great War. They show that the Red Chinese maintained patrol vessels on the lake, since it was near the Russian border. Most were abandoned and eventually scrapped afterwards, but it seems one was not accounted for."

"And you believe it to be somewhere near the lake?"  
"In it, actually. It seems that there was a collision with another vessel; the patrol boat sank afterward. Normally it would have been raised, repaired, and recommissioned, but that seems not to have been done in this case. Why, I do not know. In any case I wish to see if it is still there, and, if so, to see what might be aboard."  
"And where do you think it might be?"  
"Just above the midpoint of the lake, about five kilometers from the northern shore."  
"You are aware the lake is over fifty meters deep at that point? How do you plan to reach the wreck, assuming it to actually be there?"  
"I have diving equipment, and some skill in using it. If you will transport me there and back I will be most appreciative."

"The depth of the lake is not the only consideration. The creatures living within it might also object to your activities. The lake is home to giant pike, and one or two Yalu crocodiles, according to rumor. Should you encounter one of those it would be difficult for you to escape unharmed."  
"Such crocodiles would not venture out that far into the lake; they prefer to hunt the margins. We might be in danger from them while setting out or returning, but not at the site."

"As for the pike, and any other predatory fish, that is a concern, but I believe I have a way to deal with them. The real problem will be conditions at the site. As you well know the lake is hardly crystal clear; visibility on the bottom will only be a few feet. That may well make my task impossible. In that case I will mark the wreck for later salvage."

"If you are willing we can set out tomorrow. Are you willing?"  
"If you wish. Meet me here at the dock at dawn. It will take three hours or so to get there and the same to return, which we must do before nightfall. That does not leave you much time at the site."  
"I will take what I can get. I will be there."

At dawn they set off. Huang's boat was sound and sailed well, so they made good time. In three hours they were at the right spot, according to Fyodor's map.  
"No sign of trouble?"  
"Not so far."  
"Then let's get started."

A few minutes to check his gear, then in he went. "I should be back in thirty minutes. If not, start pulling that line in. Clear?"  
"Of course."  
He pulled the mask down and swam down to the bottom.

Huang sat back and composed himself. Now to wait.

Just before time was up Fyodor reappeared.  
"Well?"  
"We're in the right place; it's down there. And relatively intact, to boot."  
"Intact? Then why did it sink?"  
"Good question. It shows no signs of collision damage. It appears to have been deliberately sunk."  
"Interesting. And now?"  
"We come back tomorrow to find out why." They sailed back.

The next day the weather was not so accommodating; rain, wind, and five foot waves. Fyodor and Huang agreed; not the day for diving in the lake. They spent it in Huang's cottage, drinking tea and discussing affairs. Huang related how he came to be living by the lake; the cottage had been in his family for generations. His family had lived by the lake for as long as he could remember; he had grown up here.

"And the empty scabbard over the fireplace?"  
"That belonged to a distant ancestor; the sword it once held was lost long ago."  
"And how does a fisherman come to possess such a thing?"  
"Not all of my ancestors were fishermen."  
"I see."

Fyodor relaxed a bit. "As for myself, I have always been fascinated by tales of ships and the sea. For an Oni, living in the mountains, that is frustrating, as you may well imagine. But I have done what I can to study bodies of water; in the process I have studied ecology, marine biology, geology, and meteorology."

"As for the current matter, I ran across the relevant information while researching the history of the lake. As you know, it is an artificial lake, created when the river was dammed some two hundred fifty years ago. Since then it has become home to many different species of fish, aquatic plants, and margin dwelling animals and birds. Situated as it is near the Russian border, the Chinese maintained patrols on the lake in addition to land patrols on the border north of here, until the end of the Great War. After that neither the Russians nor the Chinese took much interest in the area."

"In the current circumstances, with both Oni and Japanese focused on the Manchurian plain on the other side of the mountains, it is still an area of little interest. Which is a very good thing for both of us."  
"That may change if the Oni reactivate the power station at the base of the dam."  
"If they do it will take some years to achieve. The dam is badly silted up and would have to be extensively dredged first. That is no small task. Then there is the matter of repairing the power lines. I do not think you have to worry too much about that. Your children, perhaps; or your grandchildren; but not you."

The next morning was clear and cold. Both bundled up for their trip to the site; they did sight a giant pike on the way. Being uninterested in eating a wooden boat it went on its way and left them to go on theirs. The conditions at the site were ideal, other than the cold. Fyodor was in the water and on his way down within a few minutes.

Twenty minutes later he was back. He clambered aboard just as the aforementioned pike returned for a second look. Still uninterested in eating wooden boats, it soon swam off.

"Good timing."  
"Yes. I could have held him off, but better not to have to deal with him at all. In any case I believe I have found what I sought." He laid two parcels on the floor of the boat. "Let us return."

Over dinner Fyodor unwrapped the first package. "This is the ship's log. I looked it over while I was down there, just to make sure. Certain entries are, shall we say, most interesting."  
Huang looked evenly at him. "How so?"  
"You told me that not all of your ancestors were fishermen. This log bears that out."  
"Does it indeed. Please continue."

Fyodor looked intently at Huang, who calmly met his gaze.

"Very well. It seems that one of them was captain of this very patrol boat. In addition to his regular duties it seems that he was engaged in the … ah … transportation business. To be blunt, a smuggler. However, it seems his superiors had learned of his … sideline … and were determined to catch him in the act."

"To avoid this, he and his men, who were also involved, arranged to transfer themselves and their cargo to another vessel and then sink their own, claiming it sunk in collision with an unknown vessel. Since the incriminating evidence had been spirited away he could not be proven to have engaged in such activities, although he was held at fault for the loss of his vessel and cashiered."

"Once out of the service he retired and purchased this cottage with the proceeds. Your family has owned it ever since."

"A fascinating story. What proof have you?'

"The log is not the only record on board that vessel. It is fortunate for your predecessor that the ship was never raised; the finding of his account book would have been most embarrassing for him." Fyodor laid the slim volume atop the ship's log. "Worse, he left a personal item behind."

Fyodor unwrapped the second bundle. Inside was an antique Chinese sword, somewhat dulled by two hundred years of neglect, but otherwise intact. "Beautiful, is it not?" He rose and walked over to the fireplace, then slid the sword into its scabbard. It fit perfectly, of course.

Huang looked at him. "And what do you intend to do now?"

"Nothing. The events described happened two hundred years ago; all the involved parties are long dead. No blame attaches to you or your family, since you were in no way involved. Furthermore, the injured parties were the Chinese and Russian governments, neither of which still exists. So there is no one to seek redress either."

"As for your payment, you may keep the items I retrieved. They will make a fascinating tale to tell your grandchildren. And for me to tell mine. Goodbye, Huang Lu-Tse; good fortune and long life to you."

Huang smiled at him. "And the same to you, Fyodor Chuchagov."

After he left Huang stood admiring the sword. The fishing had been good after all; very good indeed.


	8. Chapter 8 Special Delivery

SPECIAL DELIVERY

"You are certain of this?"  
"Yes. They have begun clearing the site, just north of Pyongyang."  
"The levels?"  
"High enough to be dangerous to them, but not enough to kill. With proper precautions they can stand it. What they are looking for is less certain, but I will try to get some idea before our next meeting."

"Please do. If it is fissionable materials they seek it would be distressing news; they might even consider building weapons to use them. We have had enough madness of that type already."  
"Unlikely, my friend. While it is likely that they are seeking fissionable materials, any they find would have to be extensively processed before they could be incorporated into weapons. I do not believe they possess the means to do so."  
"Then why … ah, their own reactors. I did not know they had any still active."  
"In fact, according to my information, they do not. But if they find suitable fuel they might well consider reactivating one or more of them."  
"And they would use the energy for …?"  
"Almost any industrial process, although aluminum refining comes immediately to mind; that requires ridiculous amounts of electricity."

"And could such materials be further refined for weapons production?"  
"No. Especially not after being used as reactor fuel. As I said, they lack the means to do so. Furthermore, such materials are far too precious to expend in weapons; the benefits to be had from using them as reactor fuels far outweigh any they could gain with one or two bombs."  
"So you say. But not all are as rational as yourself. Furthermore, such were originally used for blackmail; the threat was more powerful than the act."

"Assume the worst. They acquire suitable materials and assemble an atomic weapon. Now what? They lack the means to deliver it to the target. They cannot just load it into a wagon and haul it into the enemy's stronghold, like a farmer delivering produce to market. It would be useless."  
"I was thinking more of a ship, sailing into a port and holding it for ransom."  
"Again, assume the worst. They acquire a weapon and use it in that manner. Against whom? Neither the Russians nor the Oni have seaports, at least not within the reach of the Japanese. The Chinese do, but only small ones; such a threat, while serious, would not be sufficient to ensure compliance."

"Nevertheless, we should be watchful. The worst has a distressing habit of coming to pass."

"Welcome to my establishment. Tea?"  
"Yes, thank you."  
"Your name is Chung Kwan-Ho, correct?"  
"Yes."  
"And you are second mate aboard the Kato Maru, correct?"  
"Yes. For two years now."  
"And what brings you to my place of business?"  
"I am told you are a man of means, and would be willing to employ me to perform certain tasks in return for assistance."  
"What assistance do you require?"  
"A small stipend, enough to ensure that my family will be provided for after I am gone."

"And you will not be there for them why?"  
"The doctors tell me that I have a heart condition, one which will ultimately be fatal. They give me no more than two years."  
"I see. Perhaps something can be arranged; I will contact you later to work out the details. Until then, please take care of yourself; it would not do to have the doctors proved right."  
"Thank you, sir; I look forward to hearing from you."

_G,_

_Unfortunately it seems your fears have some foundation in fact. They are indeed seeking fissionable materials, and they have found them. Worse, the site seems to have been used before the war to research atomic weapons. There may well be equipment there which they could use to refine materials sufficient for one or more such weapons. We should prepare for such a contingency._

_M._

"Ah, Chung; please come in. Your tea is ready."  
"Thank you, sir. You have something you wish to discuss."  
"Yes; please be seated. This will take some little time."  
Chung sat down and sipped his tea.

"I believe I have the need for your assistance. However, the task I have in mind will be dangerous in the extreme."  
"I am told by … others … that your ship will make a special delivery within the month. A delivery that I and my associates do not wish to arrive. If you agree to undertake this task you will place a bomb in the cargo hold; one sufficient to sink your ship. We would prefer that none of the crew be harmed, if possible, but that is unfortunately unlikely. Hence the danger. Are you willing to undertake this?"

Chung smiled. "You mean the fissionable materials and machinery recovered from the site north of Pyongyang. The security on site was inadequate, to say the least; it is common knowledge that such was recovered and is being transported back to Japan."  
"Do you know what that machinery is?"  
"No, only that it is being conveyed under guard to Dengpu to be loaded aboard my ship."  
"That machinery was used before the war to refine fissionable materials for production of atomic bombs."

Chung paused for a moment. "And you believe the Japanese will use it for the same purpose."  
"Yes."  
"And that is why you do not wish that shipment to arrive."  
"Yes."

"Agreed. I will act on your behalf to see that it does not arrive. How will you ensure that I receive the necessary … equipment?"  
"One of my employees is a dockworker. She will ensure that the … equipment … is included with the rest of your cargo. Once on board your ship it will be up to you to put it to use. It would be best if it was activated while your ship was in open ocean, to make recovery as difficult as possible."  
"I understand. And my family?"  
"Your wife is a skilled secretary, true?"  
"Yes."  
"Good. I will employ her; I have need of such a person. Your children will also be provided for."  
"Thank you."

"I must tell you that it is unlikely you will survive this. Even if you are not killed in the explosion or drowned afterward the authorities are not rumored to be forgiving of saboteurs."  
"No doubt. I do not expect to survive this mission; but if my wife and children are provided for I will be content."

So, any idea where they will take them?"  
"Dengpu, a small port to the southwest. There is a ship waiting. From there, Awaji Island, in the Inland Sea."  
"When?"  
"Tomorrow night, I believe. There is, of course, a military escort to the port, and a naval escort once they're at sea."

"So piracy is unlikely to work, nor an attack on the road. Which means we have to strike while they're loading it on the ship."  
"Not necessarily. One of the crew is known to me, and has agreed to act on our behalf."  
"Even though he will be killed doing so?"  
"Yes. I have agreed to look after his wife and children afterwards. He considers it a fair exchange."

"That is a lot to ask of one person."  
"There is one other; one of the dockhands is in my employ. She will convey the necessary materials onto the ship, with his help. Assuming matters proceed according to our plan, the ship will never reach port."  
"And if not?"  
"Ever the pessimist. Assume they fail. The ship will reach Awaji, and the cargo will be unloaded. They will need some months to set up the equipment and begin processing, assuming that is even possible. That gives us time to get our people in place, after which we can try again."

"Yes, Minister. I understand completely. The ship is sailing tonight; I am assured by our contacts that all is in place and it will be prevented from reaching port. We will monitor its progress; should it pass the predetermined point we will activate our contingency plan."

"You are certain that it will work? That we will not be implicated?"  
"Yes Minister; our assets are in no way traceable to us."  
"You had better be right. We are in no condition to fight a war with the Japanese."  
"Matters would be worse if they acquired atomic weapons. It is well worth the risk to prevent that."

"Agreed. Proceed with your operation."  
"Yes, Minister."

Chung stood by the rail, watching the port disappear in the distance. The shipment and his "equipment" were both aboard, the shipment in the fore hold and the other in the after hold. He had personally seen to the loading of both; when the bomb exploded it should blow open the sides of the ship and the bulkhead separating the hold from the engine room. With the engine room flooded they would have no power; without power they could not run the pumps. The ship would be doomed; within half an hour it would have sunk. At least that was the plan.

Soon he would go below and see to the activation. After that, matters would proceed on their own. He stubbed out his cigarette and went back inside. A minute later the person watching him did the same.

"Yes?"  
"Ming Po Lin?"  
"I am he; what may I do for you?"  
"I am Captain Asagi Mori of the Kempei. We would like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind. Down at our headquarters. If you'll come with us, please?"  
"One moment, please. Chan!"  
"Yes, sir?"  
"Please inform my wife that I will not be home at the usual time tonight; presumably when I have satisfied the curiosity of the Kempei I will be allowed to return."  
"Yes, sir. I will so inform her. Take care, sir."

Ming rose and put on his coat and hat. "After you, Captain."  
"Of course. Follow me please." They walked out to the waiting car.

_G,_

_M has been taken by the Kempei. I have suspended operations and sent our friends into hiding. Perhaps when matters have quieted down we can resume our former activities._

_Until then, good luck to you._

_F._

"Come now, sir. We know all about your interest in the shipment being delivered to Awaji. It will arrive safely, despite your efforts to prevent that. Mrs. Hong is in custody also; Mr. Chung will be detained when the ship arrives in Awaji. If you are thinking that he will sabotage the vessel, our agents aboard will prevent him from doing so. Your other associates have do doubt learned of your arrest and fled or gone into hiding. So your confession can harm no one; your silence will help no one. Surely you understand that?"

"None of that matters. I have done what I believe to be right; if I am to suffer for that, so be it. To betray those who have put their trust in me would be reprehensible; I will not do so. Do your worst, gentlemen." The questioner looked at Ming, then nodded to the men next to him. They began.

Chung made his way below. It was time for the final act; a simple flip of a switch and the timer would be started. After that events would proceed on their own. As he reached the bottom of the ladder a quiet voice spoke. "I am sorry for this." A single shot; Chung fell to the floor of the hold. "I cannot let you interfere. We need this ship to arrive intact."

A second shot; the speaker sagged to the floor beside Chung. A second voice spoke; this one gravelly. "Unfortunately for you we allowed for the possibility of interference." Footsteps approached the pair. "Your associates have been … delayed. They will not arrive here in time, I'm afraid." He knelt beside Chung. "Your sacrifice was not in vain, friend. I have already started the timer. By the time his fellows arrive here it will already be over."  
"Decoy … I was merely a decoy."  
"And an excellent one; you played your part to perfection." The ghoul smiled and clasped his hand. "Rest well, Chung Kwan-Ho. You have done well this day." Footsteps on the deck above; on the ladder. The ghoul faded back into the dark.

The explosion tore the rear of the ship apart. Within five minutes it was clear that it could not be saved; the water was rushing in and there was no power for the pumps. In the confusion no one bothered to count the survivors; later it was found that seven had been lost, including Chung, and five were injured.

The Japanese reluctantly concluded that, as the wreck lay five thousand meters down, salvage was not an option. Accusations were leveled at several governments, all of whom denied any involvement. Ming, Mrs. Hong, and five others were convicted of espionage and executed. But no atomic weapons were ever built with the materials aboard the Kato Maru.

NOTE:

There are virtually no working fission reactors in the world, due to the simple fact that easily accessible supplies of fissionable materials are virtually exhausted. The only feasible method for obtaining such is to scavenge it from sites known to have had supplies from before the Great War.

Fusion reactors did exist before the war, but the technology to build and maintain them is virtually non-existent now; after two hundred years of neglect there are no longer any working fusion reactors in the world.

Power generation is mostly from coal burning power plants; there are a few oil burning plants, but petroleum supplies are too limited to allow for widespread use. The remaining power generation is from locally available sources; hydroelectric, geothermal, tidal, and wind.


	9. Chapter 9 Prisoner of War

PRISONER OF WAR

"Grandfather, what did you do in the war?"  
What veteran has not been asked that question? Mori Tatsuo smiled at his grandson. "I fought, as did so many others."  
"Did you win?"  
"No, we did not. I did not."  
"What happened?"  
"That is a long story …"

"Dig in deep; if they attack again we need to be ready."  
"Yes, Captain." As if he didn't already know. Anyone who had seen the terrible wounds left by Oni weapons knew the necessity of protecting himself.

Mori had body armor, of course, but that only went so far. It would stop shrapnel, shotgun pellets, even pistol rounds, but Oni rifles would punch right through it. The best protection was still to not get hit.

Ishida was already busily digging away. Mori joined him, helping to deepen their section of trench. Their position was good, atop a hill with good fields of fire; which meant that any attackers could see their position just as well. So, the deeper, the better.

"What was that?"  
"What?"  
"Movement, down there by the rocks. There! Sergeant!"

Sirens went off, followed by flares. The hillside was covered with hundreds of charging Oni. Gun flashes, explosions, pandemonium. Mori fired wildly, unable to see any clear targets. Bullets thudded into the ground inches away. Beside him Ishida did the same, until an Oni bullet hit him in the face, spattering Mori with blood and brains. More explosions; an Oni jumped down into the trench with him.

Mori instantly turned, just in time to receive a tremendous blow in the center of his chest, which slammed him into the wall of the trench. He could not breathe; his vision swam. His rifle was plucked from his hands; he was spun around, his arms pinioned, his hands bound behind him. He was a prisoner of war.

He was not alone in that. Two dozen others, sitting disconsolately in a group watched by half a dozen Oni guards. Other Oni moved to and fro, removing casualties, collecting discarded equipment, patrolling the perimeter. Eventually another Oni came up to them and the guards marched them away.

"Do they eat their prisoners?" Tanaka; another one of his gems.  
One of the guards answered. "You're too skinny; not enough meat for a good meal. We could make soup stock with the bones, though."

Tanaka's horrified expression was too much for him; he could not keep a straight face. In a moment all the Oni were roaring with laughter.

Eventually they calmed down. "Are all Japanese soldiers so naïve?"  
Mori sighed. "No, not all. Only a few."  
"Good, good. Well, to answer your question, no. In the first place, we are already well fed, thank you very much. In the second place you're more valuable as bargaining chips than as meals. And lastly we find that idea disgusting."

They marched along at a good pace. "You carry your dead with you?"  
"Yes; they will be returned to the producers, to be recycled into new Oni."  
"Yet you bury our dead."  
"Yes. That is your custom, is it not?"  
"Yes."  
"To do otherwise would offend you. Matters are difficult enough as is without that."  
"You could recycle them as well."  
"Your genetic material is not suitable for that. Nothing wrong with it, mind you, just not right for that."

"So what are you going to do with us?" Tanaka again; an intelligent question this time.  
"Put you to work, of course. We can always use more laborers. Don't worry; when the war's over we'll send you back to your families."  
Mori sighed; no telling how long the war would last, and he would be held captive until it ended. Already he missed his family.

They wended their way through the mountains, passing more Oni carrying supplies and weapons to the front. No vehicles, though; everything was carried by hand. Mori marveled at the size of the loads; he could not imagine even lifting that much, let alone carrying it. Yet the Oni cheerfully trotted along under loads that would have crushed him.

At roughly noon they stopped for a meal. Again Mori marveled; he was hungry enough to eat twice what he normally did, yet he did not even approach the Oni capacity for food. They easily ate three times what he did. The food itself was plain; muku, vegetables, bread, and tea, but no one seemed to mind. After lunch they resumed their march.

Eventually they stopped for the night. After another meal they lay down next to the fire. After marching all day sleep came easily.

As they marched they passed small communities, both human and Oni. Mining villages, hunting camps, even a few farms in secluded valleys. Humans working, eating, living alongside Oni in apparent harmony. He marveled at that.

"Don't they object to that? Having to live together with … them?" Tanaka again; the man apparently lived in a closet before joining the army; the depth of his ignorance was limitless.  
The same guard answered him. "You humans can be annoying at times, but we manage."  
Tanaka objected. "No, I meant … ah …"  
The Oni chuckled a bit. "Why should they? We don't bother them; they don't bother us."

"But you Oni are in charge; they don't have any say in things."  
"That's not entirely true. While we do have the authority and make the decisions, they do make their opinions known, and we do listen to them. They have influence, if not authority."  
"You own all the property and businesses, don't you?"  
"No. We own the majority, yes, but not much more than that. If we were to deprive them of their property and livelihoods they would revolt, and rightly so. More to the point, we need their help; there is simply more to do than we Oni can manage on our own. And they will not help us if they do not benefit from doing so."

"They are not slaves?"  
"Of course not. We Oni do not keep slaves, nor permit them to be kept in our territory. That would be the surest way to turn humans against us; while we are not paragons of wisdom we are not so foolish as that."

They came to a larger town. Here there was a small camp, which held roughly a hundred prisoners. They were given a day to rest, which was more than welcome after marching a hundred kilometers through the mountains in seven days. They even had showers, which seemed the height of luxury.

Most of his fellow prisoners had been taken in battle, like him, or while patrolling. One or two had been ambushed on the march. The consensus among them was that the Oni were formidable opponents and the war would be long and bloody. Mori did not find that comforting.

Eventually they were parceled out among the local farmers and merchants. Mori found himself carrying loads of produce to market once a week and working in the fields the rest of the time. In truth he did not mind this; the work was not difficult and he was young and fit. The hours were long, but that just made the time go by faster for him.

He even struck up a friendship with one of the locals, a farmhand like himself. Nikolai Frunze was nineteen, a year younger than Mori, and insatiably curious about everything outside the town. Good natured, optimistic, and easy going; one could not help but like him. They both spoke adequate Chinese, so could communicate after a fashion.

It was Nikolai who suggested going to the local dance. Mori was skeptical at first, but Nikolai assured him it would be fun. "The farmer will be there, with his daughters; perhaps you can dance with one of them."  
"I don't think my family would approve; they're very traditional."  
"You mean prejudiced."  
"They're not prejudiced! They just think I should stick to Japanese girls, that's all."

"Sure. Look, you're going to dance with them, not marry them. Come on, enjoy yourself a little."  
"Fine, I'll go. But don't be surprised if I sneak out halfway."  
"Hmph. I hadn't heard Japanese were cowards, but …"  
"Watch it, buddy."  
"Okay, okay, no offense meant. Just lighten up, okay?"

Mori glared at him, then shook his head and walked off. Nikolai shrugged and went back to work.

The communal hall was packed. Most of the town and a lot of the farmers and laborers from the country were there. Several of Mori's fellow prisoners were there as well; they were working on other farms. The music was good, if strange to his ears; the beer was excellent. He found himself smiling and waving in time to the music.

Suddenly he was staring at an attractive girl in a pastel print frock. She returned his gaze, then walked over to him. "I haven't seen you here before. You must be one of the Japanese they told me about."  
Mori nodded. "Yes. I am Mori Tatsuo, Private, 16th Infantry. Or I was until a month ago. Now it seems I am a farm worker, at least until the war is over."  
"Ah, a prisoner of war. I understand. It must be difficult for you, being separated from your friends and family."  
"A little. But I will return to them in time. The war cannot go on forever."  
"No, it cannot. But we can still enjoy ourselves a little, war or no war." She reached out to him. "Come. I'll show you a local dance or two." He let her lead him onto the dance floor.

On the way back to the farm it occurred to him that he had not even asked her name. What a fool she must think him to be; he shook his head. Nikolai looked curiously at him. "Something bothering you, Mori-san?"  
"No, not really. Just thinking of my family; wondering what they would think of my behavior tonight."  
"You were a perfect gentleman. I'm sure they would approve. Now relax; a couple of dances is not a lifetime commitment."  
"I know; but if …"  
"If what?"  
"You know."  
"No, I don't."

Mori grew quiet; Nikolai looked seriously at him.

"I see. Well, cross that bridge when you get to it. Now let's get home and get some sleep; we still have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow."

It was market day again. Mori trudged along with the basket on his back; he swore he would search it next time, to make sure he was carrying vegetables and not bricks. Nikolai was behind him, similarly burdened; the farmer was in the lead, with his own load. At least once they reached town he could relax a little; all he had to do was help set up the stall and arrange things, then the farmer would run things while he sat back and helped load the customers' purchases into their own baskets. That part was easy.

He was in the middle of setting up. "Good morning, Mori-san."

There she was; a peasant dress this time, with scarf and sandals. No less attractive, though.

"Good morning, miss. What can we get you today?"  
"Nothing at present, thank you. I was just wondering if you will be at the dance tomorrow."  
Mori smiled. "If the farmer does not mind, yes."  
"Good. I'll see you there. Goodbye, Mori-san."  
"Goodbye, miss."

She picked up her basket and walked off, following an older woman.

Nikolai looked at him. "Miss? You didn't get her name?"  
"Not yet."  
"When were you planning on doing so? Your wedding night?"  
"That is none of your business. You manage your affairs and I will manage mine, thank you very much."

Nikolai snickered, then quickly ducked as an onion narrowly missed his head. The farmer objected. "Not with the merchandise, all right?"  
"Sorry."  
"It's okay; a lump on the head might knock some sense into it. Stop him from chasing every skirt he sees." Nikolai reddened and mumbled under his breath. "What was that?"  
"Nothing."  
"Good. Now close your mouth and lend me a hand with this."

She was there at the dance, of course; the same frock, with a matching scarf this time. Same alluring smile, though. Mori's dancing was nothing to write home about, but she did not seem to mind. Afterward they sat and chatted for a bit.

"I'm sorry; I didn't get your name."  
"About time you asked. Ekaterina Davidov; Kat to my friends."  
Mori sighed. "Very well, Ekaterina."  
"You are not my friend?"  
He gritted his teeth. "Kat, then."

"That's better. Are all Japanese so stiff?"  
"Stiff?"  
"Excessively formal and polite. Seriously, relax. Enjoy yourself." She shook her head and sipped her beer.  
Mori leaned back and took a sip of his. "It's not that I'm, well, stiff, as you put it. But more that we Japanese frown on socializing with non-Japanese."

"And why is that? Because you're superior to the rest of us?"  
"I didn't say that."  
"But you implied it. Or rather you implied that Japanese feel that way. Well, for your information, the rest of humanity is just as good as the Japanese. Maybe better, in some respects. We don't look down on people just because they're not from our neighborhood. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have someplace else to be." She picked up her beer and walked off.

Mori shook his head, then finished his beer. Time to go back anyway.

Was she right? Did he really act that way? He looked at his reflection in the pond. Yes, he did. Here he was, a prisoner of war, a farm laborer, putting on airs. He had to laugh at that; how ridiculous could he get? What made him so much better than them? Nothing, that's what. He shook his head and went back to work.

Market day again. He was setting up the stall when she walked by. This time she paid him no heed. Well, he deserved that, after his behavior. He set down his basket and looked at Nikolai, who shrugged and went back to his own work. On impulse he walked around the end of the stall and trotted after her.

"Ekaterina. May I speak to you for a moment?"

She stopped and turned to face him.

"Ekaterina, you were right. My behavior was ridiculous. I apologize for that. And I appreciate your trying to befriend me, when I had done nothing to deserve that. If you will be at the dance tomorrow, I will show you how Japanese treat their friends."

She did not answer; he bowed.

"Thank you for listening to me. Take care, Ekaterina."

She turned and walked away without saying a word.

"What did you say to her?"  
"None of your business, Nikolai."

Nikolai opened his mouth, then shut it at the look on Mori's face. Both of them went back to work.

Mori almost didn't go to the dance. Almost. The thought of standing around, waiting, for someone who would not be there, while everyone looked at him; he almost did not go.

He did go, of course. Just maybe she would be there. If not … well, he would have some beer and then go back to the farm. He walked into the hall.

He was standing by the wall, enjoying the music and his beer. "Good evening, Mori-san." He smiled. "Good evening, Ekaterina. Thank you for coming."  
She smiled. "Kat, please."  
"Kat."  
"Can we step outside for a moment?"

He looked at her; she met his gaze. He followed her outside.

She sighed. "My turn to apologize. I completely overreacted last week. Then yesterday I made it worse by publicly snubbing you. I'm sorry, Mori-san. Please forgive me."  
"On one condition."  
"And that is …?"  
"Call me Tatsuo."  
She smiled. "Agreed. Tatsuo."

They went back inside. Mori and his fellow Japanese proceeded to teach the local girls some of their dances, both Japanese and Manchurian, much to their amusement. The rest of the evening was very pleasant indeed for all concerned.

After that matters went as one might expect. Weekly dances, chats in the marketplace, pleasant thoughts. Ekaterina worked on a farm on the far side of town from Mori's employer, so their contact was limited, but both made the most of it.

Eventually the war ended, as all wars do. Mori and his fellow prisoners were told they could leave whenever they wished. They discussed the matter together; most wished to return.

To Mori's surprise Tanaka was one of the few who did not. "I am happy here; the farmer treats me as his son, the land is beautiful, and the people are warm and friendly. Who could wish for better than that? No, I will remain. Perhaps, in time, I might return to visit my family, but I will live here, among these kind people."

Mori smiled at that. "I too wish to remain. I have found something truly precious; a treasure hidden in these mountains. To claim it for my own I must remain; if I return to my family it may well be lost to me."  
Tanaka looked puzzled. "What treasure have you found? I have not heard of precious metals or gems being found here."  
One of the others laughed. "Have you not seen them at the dances? Who is he always with?"  
Tanaka brightened. "Ah. I see. Yes, a treasure indeed. Fortune has indeed been kind to you, Mori-san."  
"Just so."

The day came. The Japanese set out for home, burdened with travel packs and many memories. Mori, Tanaka, and the few others who chose to remain bid them a fond farewell. When they had disappeared over the ridge to the east he turned to find Ekaterina standing there watching him.

"You did not wish to return to your family?"  
"Not yet. There is something I must do here first."  
"And what might that be, Mori-san?"  
"This." He bent over, took her in his arms, and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around him; they held that kiss for well over a minute.

She wept. "I was afraid … afraid you would leave … that I would never see you again."  
Mori smiled. "I could not leave you. My heart would still be here, and no man can truly live with his heart in one place and his body in another. Ekaterina Davidov, I would be your husband, if you would have me."  
"I have wished for that from the moment I saw you, Mori Tatsuo. Of course I will have you."

He laughed. "The war is over, but it seems I am still a prisoner."  
She laughed with him. "Yes. My prisoner, Mori-san. And I will never release you; this I promise."

Mori Tatsuo smiled at his grandson. "And that is what I did in the war. Not very exciting, I'm afraid. But important in its own way, nonetheless." From the kitchen door Ekaterina smiled at them both. She had kept her promise; he was still her prisoner.


End file.
